By Bonds We Are Bound
by Silver Halidom
Summary: When Chrom and Olivia's marriage decays into a downwards spiral, Lon'qu and Robin are left to comfort (and indulge) with each spouse. But with the threat of their dirty secrets becoming common knowledge, how far will each couple go to protect themselves and their loved ones? Lon'qu/Olivia, Chrom/male!Robin.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello there! Welcome to 'By Bonds We Are Bound'. This fic does feature both yaoi ****_and_**** het, in this chapter and later ones, so you have been warned. ****Swearing/cursing is also a possibility. This takes place around chapter 11-12 - around two years after Chrom has taken a wife. This will also contain spoilers throughout! **Without further ado, please read on. 

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Fire Emblem series.**

* * *

"There's a clearing just over there," Chrom gestured with an empty hand, which came to rest on Falchion's sheath, "we should get set up before nightfall.

Different members of the Shepherds reacted differently; Sumia sighed a little, Kellam shifted uncomfortably beneath his impenetrable armour, Nowi yawned.  
"Frederick, if you would begin to make preparations." the lord began, "Robin and I have much to discu-"

A shrill, sudden cry cut through the air like a knife. Weapons were wielded immediately as the group entered 'attack mode' in response.  
"Who was that?!" Cordelia was the first to speak, brandishing her lance menacingly. Her pegasus stood in its wholesome graciousness metres away, and seemed just as alert as its master.

"Guys, come look at this!" The same voice that had squealed repeated.

"Is that...Lissa?" Robin, the tactician, was the first to recognise the owner of the voice. Chrom confirmed his estimate with a curt nod, and turned to the sound of her voice.

Two small bushes rustled abruptly, causing a shower of leaves to cascade to the ground. Lissa sprang out, clearly excited, and grabbed her brother's hand. "Chrom, come look at this! There's a hot spring!"

The small blonde cleric continued to pull the prince off the beaten path. "Gods, Lissa," Chrom began; his amiable expression contrasted with the hesitance in his voice, "you really had me worried for a second."

"Did she say...hot springs?" Tharja's enquired smoothly, her voice slightly suggestive as she turned to look a Robin. "We could have some fun in those."

Robin's face turned an embarassing shade of red. "Please, Tharja, don't be so crude."

The dark mage gave a dark smirk in response and followed the others as they went to investigate the hot spring. Sighing, Robin followed in their wake.  
"My my..." Virion remarked, clearly surprised. "Doesn't this look lovely?"

A glittering pool of light blue water bubbled invitingly, with a small trail of steam rising off into the evening air. Lissa knelt down excitedly on a slab of rock, admiring her reflection a little in the crystalline liquid, and promptly wetted her hands, "It's warm! We could bathe here, really. No point in setting up a bathing tent if we've got one of these next door."

"Milady, I suggest we concentrate on setting up camp first before indulging in this...phenomenon of nature," Frederick never would have admitted it, but he'd never come across a hot spring before and was rather impressed, "we've a lot of preparations to make before we continue to Ferox."

"Aw, Frederick?" Lissa tried a different tactic. "Please, Chrom?"

"Frederick, if you'd like to organise bathing times for men and women, please do. The sooner the better." Chrom coughed, and tried to look nonchalant. He had a soft spot for both of his sisters, and besides, he thought Lissa deserved a break. They all did.

The Ylisse-Plegia war was something they'd all been through, and thankfully, due to Robin's strategic mind, had all survived. The strength Chrom and his Shepherds was all gained through the war, and the peace that had followed had allowed Chrom to marry. He gave his wife, Olivia, an absent-minded gaze. She was standing next to Lon'qu, whose expression was as serious as always. His daughter, Lucina, was all tucked up safely in the Ylissean castle. The thought of being a father made him proud. Prouder than he'd ever been.

Frederick shook his head a little and addressed the group. "Ladies first, of course. They can use the spring until an hour after dark. Gentleman, use the spring _after_ the women have finished, and preferably come back before midnight."

This announcement was greeted with a definitive cheer from everyone. Only a few Shepherds were a little more apprehensive, particularly Ricken. What if everyone saw how small his muscles were?

Sumia also raised a fair point. "Chrom, what will we bathe in?"

Chrom replied with a blank stare, and looked pointedly at his tactician.

"Well..." Robin began, "using smallclothes would just get them wet, and maybe ruin them. Please excuse me for saying so, but it appears the best option would be for each of us...to, ah, how do I put this..?"

"You want us to bathe naked?" Tharja said, bluntly. "I can do that."

Robin blinked. "Well, yes. Obviously, if anyone doesn't want to use the spring, that's fine. It's also a rare chance to get some real relaxation. And we've been marching all day, so it's a decent way to clean as well. We all need to be at our strongest to match our Feroxi neighbours, and for the possible journey to Valm."

With all the arrangements sorted, Frederick barked instructions to set up camp, and the group began to drift back towards the clearing. Olivia watched Chrom walk away with the others, talking animatedly to Robin and Frederick about something. She smiled, a little hopelessly.  
"Olivia," Lon'qu shifted at her side to stand in front of her, surprising her a little. He lowered his voice slightly with discretion, "would you like to take a walk later?"

A wry smile crossed Lon'qu face as her own expression flushed radiantly. She replied, quietly: "I'd love to. Thank you."

* * *

A zephyr bit the air in the evening, just after the sun had completed its descent. Olivia stood alone on the edge of camp, her slim body partially hidden by a tent. She'd told Chrom she'd gone to practice her dancing a little way off into the woods and probably wouldn't be back for the evening meal, but she felt that he hadn't really acknowledged her. There was no 'be careful!' or 'do you really think you should go alone?'. Simple, straight-forward acceptance. Sully (a notoriously bad chef) and Nowi (who was always playing) were on cooking duty that night, so Olivia's excuse to get away seemed even more legitimate.

"Lon'qu," Her face shone when she saw her fellow Feroxi make his way from the temporary training grounds. "Shall we go now?"

"Right," his expression, reserved as always, softed a little as the pair made their way into the woods.

They purposely walked as far away as possible. Ruffians were still a threat, so Lon'qu always had one hand on his killing edge. One they were a little further away from the others, his other hand entwined with Olivia's. Finally, they arrived at a place they deemed 'safe'; a small hill that swelled out from under the ground, with trees stretching from glossy blades of grass. Far away from the prying eyes from the camp. If their secret ever got out...

Olivia's heart pumped with excitement as she pressed her lips against Lon'qu, who kissed back with a powerful vigour. She loved this man. His strength, his dedication, and his valour. It was nothing that Chrom didn't have, but Lon'qu was an enigma to her, even after all they'd shared. That physical heat between them felt searing to Olivia's skin, as the myrmidon placed his hands against those curvaceous hips and pulled her closer. She let out a wisp of a moan.

Pulling his lips away slowly, the myrmidon gave the dancer a rare, rather lopsided grin. He knew this love affair was wrong in so many ways. He was terrified of women, and he'd been terrified of her at first. That day, when the Mad-King Gangrel had been defeated, was also the day she'd joined them. He thought she was buried in a past that he'd more than love to forget. But he couldn't forget, and she wouldn't leave, out of loyalty to Emmeryn's legacy and Basilio's orders.

Not to mention Olivia was Chrom's wife. The king, who could have Lon'qu battered and slaughtered into pieces like a weak piece of cattle. If Chrom ever found out, ever knew how long this little 'affair' had been going on for...the myrmidon was treading on thin ice.

"We should talk." That low voice made the dancer shiver.

A rock jutted out from the ground, and Olivia sat herself upon it. She gently patted the empty space besides her, a demure expression on her pretty face. "You sound serious. Now?"

"Yes, now." He said, taking his place beside her.

"About what?"

"About Chrom, and your daughter."

* * *

**...**

**By the way, this is the first fic I've ever written. Any feedback would be very appreciated, and thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

The entire camp had been taken ill. Well, most of them.

Nowi and Sully's cooking from the night before had given most of the Shepherd's an exceedingly painful dose of food poisoning. Nowi's rather imaginative addition of an assortment of twigs and a severed bird's wing she found in the surrounding woodland earlier reacted badly with Sully's warped cooking skills.

The first thing Robin had heard that morning, before he had even opened his eyes, was the sound of Donnel being violently sick meters behind his tent. Robin was unusually dreary, due to staying up so late discussing battle formations and tactics with Chrom. He'd enjoyed it quite a bit, actually. He always enjoyed Chrom's company.

He rose quickly, pulling his gloomy robe over the withered trousers and holey shirt he used as pajamas, and exited his tent barefoot. The villager had one hand leant heavily up against a tree, his back shuddering as his body was racked with gags, his bronze lance discarded yards away. His hand clutched over his stomach.

"Donnel?" The tactician was hesitant as he approached the shivering figure. "Are you sick?"

"Gosh darn it!" Donnel twisted his head to meet Robin's eyes. "I'm pretty sure it were the dinner last night that caused this mess!"

With that proclamation, he turned back towards the woods and hurled on the floor. Robin watched on, slightly disgusted.

"Do you want any help?"

"Naw. Leave me be. Thanks, though."

It turned out that many of the others were experiencing similar problems.

"Hell, I'm done with this cooking crap!" Sully was abysmally surly, as her own cuisine had poisoned her as well. After dressing, Robin had gone knocking to Chrom's tent and alerted the lord as to what exactly was going on.

"I think that's probably for the best," Chrom replied to Sully. "I was hoping we could move onto Ferox today, but I suppose that's out."

Chrom and his tactician left after her stomach grumbled alarmingly. "I think you guys should go before this gets ugly." Was the only warning she gave.

It seemed that the only people who were left unaffected by the food were Chrom, Robin, Olivia and Gaius. Gaius had stuffed himself with sweets minutes before dinner, anticipating the failure of the meal with a skilful accuracy. Chrom and Robin ate together, separately from the others, just before retiring for the night. And Chrom seemed to remember Olivia mentioning she was going to practice her dancing in the woods. He realised now that it wasn't the safest thing to do. But he didn't really know how to talk to her anymore. Olivia glided around the camp, fetching drinks and so on for the sick fighters. Both Robin and Chrom wondered if her sweet nature was being taken advantage of a little.

"Chrom. Is something wrong?" Robin said, several hours later. After checking up on everyone, Robin and Chrom had decided to go down to the hot spring. They hadn't been able to indulge in it the previous night, and the fatigue from their recent battles was beginning to catch up on them. After saying goodbye to Olivia, who had been about to give Lon'qu some 'medical' attention, they'd left everyone for some time alone. Together, ironically.

"Ah," the lord raised his head, unsmiling, and met Robin's eyes. "Just thinking, that's all."

"About Olivia?" It wasn't a guess. Robin knew about the rocky relationship his friend and the dancer had been involved in for quite some time. His perception skills were very accurate, and that never failed to surprise Chrom.

Startled, the great lord replied, "How did you know?"

Robin shrugged modestly. "A guess, I suppose. Do you want to talk about it?"

For the first time, Chrom drew quiet. He didn't ignore the tactician; he simply did not answer. Robin bit his lip as they continued to walk, a little worried that he'd upset Chrom, pressed him a little too far.

A matter of seconds later, they reached the spring. A fine misty-spray of water vapour shimmered as rays of sunlight danced through, and the ragged edge of the water spat and frothed against their natural stony confinements. Trickles of water wove their way through small cracks in the spring, heightening the moisture in the air. Suddenly, Robin began to feel very, very hot.

Without a word, Chrom removed Falchion from its sheath and set the blade down gently by stone rims of the spring. His cloak was next, followed by clunky, metallic sets of armour. A little self-consciously, Robin began to pull off his own clothes. He tugged his dark robe off, and let it fall to the floor.

The atmosphere was almost stifling.

"Chrom?" Robin's voice was quiet. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"I know. You're a good friend." Chrom's voice cracked suddenly. "Gods, Robin. It feels like everything's gone wrong."

Their eyes met, and almost unconsciously, Robin took Chrom's hand in his own. Fingers entwined; the gesture was tender. One that surprised Chrom, but comforted him at the same time. Robin's touch was almost therapeutic, he found. It was almost as if all of his troubles were draining away, slipping from his heart through his blood, pulsing against Robin. The tactician pulled his hand away a second too late, and mistakenly let his hand linger. He enjoyed the contact, as Chrom did…but in a different way.

Stimulated by the firm grip of the lord, Robin spoke a little louder, his confidence boosted. He tugged at his own clothes as he spoke. "Have you and Olivia had some sort of argument?"

Their conversation paused as the two males stripped naked, shedding every piece of cloth. The trees of the woodland offered little shelter from the humid air, and Robin felt warm despite his nakedness.

He was also quite embarrassed.

One look at Chrom sent him reeling. Despite their closeness, he'd never seen the other man nude before. The situation had never arose, but he had been a little curious. He'd seen those toned arms work Falchion with a legendary strength, and allowed himself to wonder a little about the rest of the lord's unexplored body. In fact, some of those thoughts had been border lining with fantasies.

Robin felt almost pathetic in relation. That was something Tharja wouldn't agree with.

The dark mage was stowed away behind a nearby boulder, and had been watching the two males for some time. Of course, Chrom didn't do anything for her, but seeing Robin – her one true source of affection (and obsession) – in the _bare flesh_ was truly orgasmic.

She scrutinised every part of his body as he moved towards the spring. Unfortunately, she could only see his back, legs and that delightfully smooth ass. Muscles that were toned, opposed to bulging, complimented his rather slim form delightfully.

_Turn around, turn around, turn around!_

Watching eagerly, she sat on her knees with a large stack of tomes by her side. The dark mage sighed in disappointment when she saw him slide into the spring, next to Chrom, leaving the majority of that body hidden.

Now, where was the tome that let her see through stone?

Chrom and Robin sat rather close together in the spring, oblivious to their spying guest.

The tactician watched his friend as he spoke, occasionally letting his eyes wander around Chrom's body. Water lapped and slipped around his torso that rippled with muscle. Lean arms sank lazily in the spring, resting on the natural stone formation they were using as a seat. The brand of the exalt was exposed proudly on his shoulder.

"…So, you see, I think a lot of people see Olivia and me as having a rather…rushed marriage. What about you, Robin? What do you think?"

Tharja strained her ears as she muttered incantations under her breath, whilst flicking through a heavy, worn tome. She was slightly too far away to hear. What if they were talking about _her?_ Her pulse quickened, as her stomach churned. She'd taken some herbs from Panne's tent earlier in order to settle her own ailment of food poisoning, but unfortunately it had had barely any effect so far. She knew she had a spell that would increase her hearing…somewhere…

Robin tore his eyes back to Chrom's face, and responded rather quickly, "I do think you married quite quickly. But you were sure, weren't you?"

Chrom tilted his head earthwards and gazed at his own wavering reflection in the water, and his solemn expression hovered back at him over his knees. Again, there was another pause. Another silence-filled chance to think. "I thought I was."

The dark mage's stomach grumbled. Her eyes flickered from her books to the pair in the spring.

"You look tired, Chrom," the tactician said. He brought a finger up and traced it down a slight crease near one of his eyes. "And tense."

A pathetic smile broke out in response to the gesture, and Chrom replied: "Gods, I am. I feel tired when I think about Olivia. And that's a terrible thing, isn't it? To be wary of your own wife?"

Tharja's eyes widened when she saw that Robin was cupping the side of Chrom's face, with the hand that had been tracing his skin moments ago. Jealously gripped her. Was this the sort of thing best friends did in private? Get naked, hop in some water and then feel each other's faces?

Robin should be cupping _her_ face! She should be the one stripped down and being touched by him, not Chrom!

Her stomach growled louder. And louder. Bile rose in her throat. Pressing one hand to her mouth, she raised the other and muttered a hex through slender fingers. Lightning magic burst with an unintended ferocity from her outstretched palm, darting through the air with a sinister crackle of electrically charged _pain_.

Robin's hand was snatched away from Chrom, and a searing burn ate painfully at his skin. The magic slapped into his hand, latching onto and gnawing onto his skin. A loud gasp escaped him, as Tharja watched on, aghast. In actual fact she'd been aiming at Chrom's face…but apparently she had missed. In hindsight, that would've hit Robin anyway.

"Who's there?!" Chrom yelled. He yanked Robin closer, glaring angrily to the source of the attack. He did not spot the dark mage, who had stolen herself away behind the large boulder she was using as shelter. "Show yourselves!"

Tharja bit down hard on the back on her hand to prevent herself from regurgitating last night's meal onto the floor, and hastily gathered her tomes. She was planning a quick escape. There was no way she'd allow Robin to see her. He'd figure out it was her that sent off that bolt of lightning magic, and then her chances with him would be ruined, sealed off forever. If that happened, then what point was there in living?

In his current position, Robin was almost sitting on Chrom's lap. He felt prized, proud; Chrom was angry, furious even, and protecting him.

After scanning the woodland, the lord turned back and examined Robin's arm hurriedly. His instinct was to pull on a cape and make the culprit _pay_, but his fondness for Robin made him stay. "We should get Lissa to heal this."

"It's no bother, really, it'll heal by itself," the tactician assured him.

"No, listen." Chrom insisted. "I'd feel better knowing that you're safe."

Robin flushed at this comment. "Well, if you say so…"

"Let's get dressed, and head back to camp and get that burn looked at. Then I'll cut down whoever did this myself."

"They would've gotten away by then. There's no point." Robin protested.

"I don't care. We were targeted, and you got hurt. I can't let someone get away with that." Chrom was blazing, rage flowing through him. His tendency to rush forward without thinking was prominent.

Honestly, Robin felt overwhelmed and quite pleased with Chrom's reaction. Despite that, he did wonder who it was who had attacked him as well. Uneasiness crept up his spine. "You can't go out alone. Let me come."

"No, you need to rest. I'll take someone with me. Lon'qu, maybe. He seemed a little better than everyone else. And he's talented with a sword."

Tharja stole away with the slyness of a thief, and was followed several minutes later by an injured Robin and a testosterone-fuelled Chrom. Robin believed he was the only one who had relished the brief, yet slightly amorous touches and glances.

He would've been thrilled to know Chrom was beginning to feel the same way.

* * *

**...**

**Finally, I'd like to thank _overtired_ for giving me some helpful advice as to writing this. **

**Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

Lambent light sank through the material walls of Lon'qu's tent, which in turn caused the room to be shaded in a yellow hue. Olivia was sitting on his bed, hands clasped timidly on her lap whilst he stood a distance away, facing her. That stoic expression gave nothing away about how he felt, but inside he was anxious. Not the sort of anxiety he felt around women – no, this was much different. Paranoia was a better word; he was paranoid that the king would find out about their affair.

"We've got to be more careful," he said, commandingly, "it will look suspicious if people see you coming into my tent, or I into yours, whenever we please. Especially if Chrom or Robin see."

"Robin?" Olivia murmured, doubtfully. "I doubt Robin would question-"

"He's Chrom's right-hand man," Lon'qu cut her off, "If he notices anything out of the ordinary, he'll notify Chrom immediately."

"I…I suppose you're right…" Olivia stood up and approached her lover, aware of his slightly perturbed state. "Lon'qu, what's brought this on? You never used to be so cautious."

He dipped his head slightly, to balance the height difference between them as the dancer stood directly in front of him. Their eyes met. "There's more at stake now than before."

"More at stake?"

"Lucina." The myrmidon offered no further explanation, and Olivia understood perfectly.

"If we get found out, then Lucina will be affected too. Is that what you're saying?"

Lon'qu gave a dismissive 'hmph', and folded his arms.

"You're…very considerate," Olivia drew closer. She raised her arm slightly, cupped his face with a gentleness that he associated with her tender skin. "She's my daughter, yet you still consider her."

Lon'qu leaned into her touch, and grasped the hand that caressed his face, entwining his fingers with hers. "She's a baby. She needs her parents."

Hands still clasped, the dancer pulled his hand to her waist and pulled him towards the bed. A sword lay sheathed on the makeshift floor next to it, and Olivia hopped over it with the deftness of a dancer. "Do you remember when we first met?"

How could he forget?

Olivia was barely a woman when she met Lon'qu. She was smaller, slight, and her figure was much less womanly. In actual fact, she hadn't changed much over the years, but her youthfulness made her so much more childlike. Basilio, the reigning khan, had just rescued her from a forced marriage that she'd almost fallen prey to.

The traditional political battles were being held to determine whether the East Khan or the West Khan would hold power over Regna Ferox, and each team was embellished with a set of warriors hand-picked by each khan themselves. Flavia had opted for a team that was skilled with long-range attacks, consisting of archers and fighters equipped with hand-axes, whilst Basilio had decided upon a team of swordsmen.

Spectators had been surprised by the head of Basilio's team, and many had been critical, too. It was Lon'qu's first public appearance in Regna Ferox, and he'd been training under Basilio's watchful eyes for months. His heritage from Chon'sin made him eligible to fight for the West Khan, but to onlookers, he was just a boy with a sour face and a harsh grip on his sword. In secret, he was terrified, but showing such an emotion was showing weakness to the enemy. He wouldn't cajole his opponents into thinking he was unsteady with a sword – he needed to impress Basilio. He needed to win.

Nerves made Olivia's stomach roll with the tenacity of a stormy sea when the crowd erupted into cheers and cries around her. Lord Basilio sat right next to her, a towering warrior; it was an honour she'd been bestowed with, sitting right next to the West Khan. She was oblivious to his soft spot for her, but she enjoyed his company. He was almost like the father she'd never had.

"Hey, you see him?" Basilio nudged Olivia with a strength that almost sent her flying out of her chair. He was pointing eagerly at his team. "The young one. Brown hair."

"Y-yes, I see him, milord." Olivia replied, as she followed the West Khan's eager gesture.

"I'll introduce you two later. At the celebrations, when I beat Flavia's sorry arse!" At this announcement, many of the supporters surrounding Basilio cheered hysterically.

"O-oh, I'm not so sure…that…that's a good idea…" Olivia stuttered, her shyness immediately took over.

"Don't worry, Olivia," Basilio winked at her with his usual foolhardy manner. "Lon'qu…well, let's just say pretty ladies like you tend to put him on edge."

* * *

Basilio had stuck to his word.

Slightly drunk on both alcohol and glee after securing his status as the reigning khan (Lon'qu, despite his age, had obliterated Flavia's team), the West Khan dragged Lon'qu over to a breathless Olivia.

Night had fallen as the festivities had started. Olivia was performing with a set of other dancers, and the evening had been stolen by their performance. Whereas other venues she had performed at in the past had been seedier (onlookers had been more interested in her body than her performance), her dancing was admired by many, including Lon'qu. He'd been feeling slightly out of place; he refused to drink, despite Basilio's pestering, and wasn't one for conversation.

The champion had been appalled when the West Khan had announced he'd found a girl for him to talk to.

"I can't talk to a woman!" He protested, as Basilio grabbed the sleeve of his tunic and dragged him through the crowd.

"She's not a woman, she's more of a girl, so you'll be fine," Basilio grinned. He paused for a moment to chug down some mead out of his canteen. "She's not fully grown, so she's not as scary as a real woman, right? Right?"

"You're drunk." Lon'qu scowled, as the West Khan continued to pull him along.

"And you _should_ be drunk, my boy!" The huge man chuckled. "You're the champion! You won! Now, where is she?"

The champion gritted his teeth. When Basilio was determined, there really was no changing his mind. "Well, what does she look like?"

"Shorter than you, long pink hair, cute face, kind of skinny," Basilio was almost slurring his words, "and she's a bit younger than you, too."

"You haven't set me up with a toddler, have you?" Lon'qu grumbled, as his eyes scanned the crowd half-heartedly.

"No, no, she's only about a year younger. I think. I assume." Basilio let out a roar of a laugh. "She was one of the dancers on stage earlier. You were staring. Don't deny it, boy!" He chuckled again and surveyed the darkened hall. "Oh, there she is!"

Olivia was embedded in the shadows, alone. Her timidity prevented her from mingling with the other dancers. Her hands were pressed against her chest. She was excited, and overwhelmed. This was the largest party she'd ever been to, and performing in front of such a grand number of people had fuelled her and horrified her at the same time.

Her heart dropped into her stomach when she saw Basilio barge through the sea of revellers, Lon'qu in tow. She'd hoped that Basilio had forgotten all about their earlier conversation, but apparently he hadn't. Her first instinct was to turn and run away, anywhere, but they were too close now. It would look rude if she ran away, and she certainly wouldn't want to leave that impression on anyone.

"Olivia!" Basilio shrieked and slapped her back heavily, in an amiable manner. Unfortunately, her form was slight and the West Khan had underestimated his strength. Olivia slammed into Lon'qu, and her face collided with his shoulder.

That was far too much for Lon'qu to handle. Intuitively, he grabbed the top of her slender arms and hauled her away from him. He wanted to retch. He was touching another woman. A female.

A female that had blood spurting down her face.

"Gods, Olivia, are you alright?!" Basilio sobered a little, as he realised what had happened. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hit you so hard!"

Her eyes shone with tears, but she seemed unconcerned with her own injury. Her nose was bleeding. "I'm so sorry, I got blood on your tunic!"

Lon'qu glanced at his shoulder, and a large, dark stain was soaking into the material. "It's just a stain. You need to get your face fixed."

"Lon'qu! Help this young lady at once! Take her to a bathroom and help her clean up her face." Was it just Lon'qu's imagination, or was there a hint of mirth under the West Khan's chastising voice?

"I…I feel a little dizzy…" the dancer complained quietly, but the two males were too busy arguing to hear her.

"She's a woman! I can't do that!" Lon'qu protested angrily.

"Listen, boy, one day you'll need to reproduce and that will involve sticking your..." various expletives began to leak from Basilio's mouth.

"I…think I'm going to faint…" Olivia pressed a hand to her nose, and gasped when it came away smothered crimson. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head.

Lon'qu yelped when her body slumped forwards, and he caught her without thinking. His immediate response was to drop her, but when he shook her and she did nothing to protest, he realised she'd lost consciousness.

"Fainted." He stated, as she awkwardly hung in his arms. He trembled a little with fear.

"Well then, this should make things easier. Go clean her up and take her to her room. Women love that. She sleeps in the east wing of the castle, in a performer's dormitory."

"I'm…I'm not going to _seduce_ her…"

"Go, boy, go! Before she wakes up!"

Basilio bundled the unconscious girl into Lon'qu's arms, who staggered a little with her weight. "Take her away from me!"

"Never!" Basilio scampered away into the crowd before Lon'qu could take action.

* * *

Olivia could feel something dripping onto her face. She was being dabbed on her nose by something. Something moist, and soft.

Her vision blurred and warped in front of her eyes when she opened them. There was someone above her, someone with dark hair and white skin. She didn't recognise them.

"Don't move." A voice commanded.

She did as she was told, and blinked a little in order to regain her sight.

"Lon'qu?" The dancer guessed.

"Yes. You fainted after Basilio pushed you and made you bleed."

"Oh, no, he didn't push me, it was more like an overenthusiastic pat…"

"I don't care." Lon'qu said, coldly.

His frigidness was something she wasn't used to, and she blushed in embarrassment. "Um, what are you doing?"

"Cleaning your face."

"Y-you don't have to, I can do that…"

"Go on then." Lon'qu was relieved, although he didn't show it. This was the closest he'd been to a girl since…since Ke'ri.

Olivia had expected him to protest, at least a little. It was the polite thing to do, wasn't it? She opened her eyes fully, squinting against the dim candlelight. They were in a bathroom, alone. Lon'qu was looking down at her, and she realised she was on her back, on the floor. A cloak was spread out beneath her body, presumably to protect her from the cold and dirt on the floor.

"I-is this yours?" Olivia gripped the cloak with one hand.

Lon'qu nodded, and thrust a wet cloth into her hand. He was careful to avoid skin-on-skin contact.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sitting on it…"

"I put it there for a reason. Don't apologise."

"Um…sorry…I…"

"Clean your face. I'm leaving." Lon'qu rose to his feet.

"Wait!" Olivia propped her body up with one hand, her other clenching the slightly bloodied cloth. "What about your cloak?"

"Give it to me some other time." Lon'qu replied, and exited without looking back.

Olivia sat up properly, leaning her body against a wall. Tentatively, she began to wipe her face with the cloth.

"Oh, and by the way, this is a men's lavatory." Lon'qu made her jump, and his words made her sweat. She shakily stood up, heart pounding. She didn't know whether to be furious or grateful.

* * *

"I never gave you that cloak back, did I?" Olivia giggled, as she let her forehead touch Lon'qu's. She sat on his lap, legs straddled around his waist with her arms draped around his shoulders. They sat on the bed in his tent, slotted together. Olivia had discovered that snuggling up to Lon'qu was one of her most favoured pastimes, and the myrmidon was more than happy to comply.

"No, I don't think you did." His hand weaved through her pink hair, stroking her back gently. "I think you were scared of me."

"And you were scared of me," she smiled, "because I'm female."

He kissed the top of her head. "Things have changed. Things are changing."

"Hey, Lon'qu!" _Chrom_.

The couple sprang away from each other.

Chrom's silhouette could be seen as he stood outside. "Can I talk to you?"

Olivia darted from the bed and hid herself underneath it, whilst pulling a stray blanket on top of her. She concealed herself. As a precaution.

Lon'qu appreciated her fast thinking and strode towards the entrance. He opened the flimsy tent door, to find Chrom standing on the other side.

"I have a favour to ask." Chrom began.

"What is it?"

"Well, Robin and I were just attacked near the hot springs. He was injured, but Lissa and Maribelle are looking at him now. I need you to help me catch the perpetrator."

Lon'qu gulped. He almost thought that the lord had found out about Olivia and was visiting to slay him.

"…I know you're as sick as everyone else, but you seem to be in good shape, and you're deadly with a sword, so…"

"I'll come. Wait a minute." Lon'qu turned away, and the tent door flapped in Chrom's face. The myrmidon plucked his killing edge from the ground and attached it to his belt. Olivia wasn't even visible from the door.

"By the way, have you seen Olivia?" Chrom called from the outside.

Lon'qu almost had a heart attack, and he hurried back to the lord. "No. No, I have not."

"Huh, that's strange. I haven't seen her since I got back."

"Maybe she's practicing her dancing." Lon'qu suggested, feigning ignorance.

"Maybe. That's all she ever seems to do."

* * *

**...**

**Today, we ventured into the past. There was a lot of Lon'qu and Olivia in this chapter, but we're in the early stages. There's plenty more of both pairings to come. Thank you for reading.**


	4. Chapter 4

Chrom wasn't the sort of person who often had a sour face, but his excursion in the woods with Lon'qu had left him with one.

"Ouch…ah!" He yelped when Lissa gently lifted his arm at a ninety-degree angle above his head.

"You're not usually one to whine, Chrom!" She let out a giggle, as she examined his shoulder. "Yep, it definitely looks like a sprain. I hear they're pretty painful. What happened?"

"Ah, well, Lon'qu and I went out into the woods to see if we could find any trace of who attacked Robin and me in the hot spring. After a while, we were walking, and I think he saw something, so he started to run off. I yelled at him to come back. He did, with his sword drawn, and I drew mine, thinking there was a threat, and he just…" Chrom sighed and ran a hand through his blue hair with his hand with the uninjured shoulder. "I don't know. He took a swing at me."

"He attacked you, milord?" Frederick, as well as Robin, was present. Frederick the Wary was…wary. Secretly, he rather liked the title Chrom had given him. He'd had it since he was a barely a teenager, and since the king was just a boy.

"It was more in self-defence, I think." Chrom replied. "He saw me holding Falchion, so he darted forward and tried to knock the blade away. I didn't allow that to happen, obviously, so I blocked his sword with my own."

"And then?" Frederick prompted him.

"He's quick. Very quick. Instead of attacking me from a different angle, he just hit me again. I guess the force went through the sword and hit my shoulder, and then I tried to hit him back."

"You fought back?" Robin asked, his expression thoughtful. "He thought you were trying to attack him, so he hit you first? He never struck me as the sort of man who would lose his nerve and attack an ally."

The lord shrugged, and then winced. "I'm as confused as you all are. It happened so quickly."

Lissa sat next her brother, and she listened to him, enraptured. "He's such a dark horse! What happened next?"

"He hit his blade down from above, I think, and I blocked it again. I never knew he possessed such a strength, because the next thing I knew, I was on the ground." Chrom paused a little, to gather his thoughts. Robin was the only one to notice a faint dusting of a blush across his face. "He seemed as surprised as I did when I fell. Then he offered me a hand, as if nothing had happened. That's when I realised something was wrong with my shoulder."

"Huh. That's really strange." Lissa gathered Chrom's cloak into a bundle and thrust it into his arms.

"We should investigate, milord." Frederick advised. "It is odd that he would attack you, and it's an insult, too. I don't like this at all."

Chrom thought for a moment, and then shook his head. "No. I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding between us. After all, it was dark, and it all happened very quickly."

"Lon'qu is one of our stronger units," Robin commented. "His strength shouldn't be underestimated. He rather reserved, but he was Basilio's champion. He wouldn't give us a dangerous man, and he's been around for over two years. Though this whole event_ is_ bizarre."

"We should…leave him for a while," Chrom said, conclusively. "Maybe it was something I said, or maybe he really did think I was going to attack him. I'd like to talk with him at some point, but…" Chrom left his sentence unfinished. "Lissa, what do you recommend I do to heal my shoulder?"

Lissa stood up, as her brother did. "Don't fight for a while, or you'll make it worse. And you should massage it for a few minutes every hour or so. The blood with circulate around it and help it heal." The cleric gave a sly wink. "Maybe you could ask Olivia to massage your shoulder for you."

"Mm, yes, maybe." Chrom said, rather reluctantly. Neither Lissa nor Frederick took notice of his apprehension. "I'd prefer it if we could keep this incident with what happened with Lon'qu to ourselves. We don't need the whole camp theorising about what happened." His companions nodded. "Well, I'll be retiring for the night. It's late."

"One last thing!" Lissa dug through a pocket in her buttercup-hued dress and pulled out a small, circular object. "Look at this!"

Chrom and his tactician inspected her open palm. "A ring?" Chrom said. "Who gave you this? Wait, does this mean..?"

"It was I, milord." Frederick took a step forward, as if he was confessing something. "I proposed to Lissa, and I gave her the ring."

"Isn't it wonderful?" Lissa beamed. "I'm getting married to my first love and everything will be perfect!"

"That's great!" Robin said, his smile nearly as wide as Lissa's.

"Of course, if you permit it, milord." The great knight spoke solely to the king. "But I want you to know, marrying Lissa would be a great honour, and I love her. Very much so."

Chrom was still a little shocked. His little sister…and one of his most loyal soldiers, not to mention friends, getting married? He never would have guessed this, not in a million years. He smiled, although it was slightly strained. "No, of course, I'm very happy for you two. You're great together."

"Oh Chrom!" Tears glistened in the corner of the cleric's eyes. "I'm so happy you think so!"

"Yes. There's just one thing I want to clarify…" The lord took a deep breath and looked at both Frederick and Lissa in turn. "Are you definitely, most positively sure that you will be happy being together for the rest of your lives?"

Lissa answered for both of them. "Yes, of course! I love him with every essence of my being!" The blonde paused, slightly puzzled. "Why are you asking us this?"

"Don't misunderstand me, I'm very happy for you both. I…I just don't want you to make any mistakes that will cost you your happiness."

* * *

The lord was just about to blow out his candle for the night when he heard Robin outside the tent.

"Chrom?"

"Please, Robin, come in," Chrom pulled himself out of his bed and sat on the side of it, one hand resting on his pillow, "What is it?"

Robin entered, still fully dressed in his usual attire. Chrom's upper body was completely bare, and he wore a pair of loose grey trousers to sleep in. The tactician observed his half-naked friend, and Chrom noticed him bite his lip a little.

"I apologise for intruding so late, but I was thinking about what Lissa said earlier," for some reason, Robin couldn't meet the lord's eyes, "about massaging your shoulder, I mean."

"Right. Actually, I did kind of give it a rub, but it didn't do me much good."

The tactician felt his face flush a little, "Well, I thought, if you want me to, I could massage your shoulder for you. I mean, we need you back on the battlefield before we go to Ferox, and we've already delayed our visit there already because of the food poisoning incident, so…"

"Really? You'd do that for me?" Robin thought his friend looked happy at his proposal, which filled him with a little more confidence.

"Of course I would," Robin replied, "I hate to see you in pain, be it on the battlefield or otherwise."

"I'm lucky to have you, Robin," Chrom beamed, "really lucky. Ah, will you do it now?"

"If you'd like me to. I have a bandage on my hand from where we attacked earlier today, but it's healing very quickly. It shouldn't pose much of a problem."

"If it begins to hurt, you should stop right away. I care for you, too." Chrom ran a hand over the empty space of his bed. "On my bed, if you will? There's more room."

Excited by his willingness, Robin ran his slightly sweaty palms down the side of his robe and approached the bed. Some sweat soaked up into his bandage, which he hoped didn't make it damp. He sat down, pulled off his boots to avoid dirtying the sheets, and looked to Chrom for further instruction.

"I think…it would be better if I sat between your legs," Chrom decided, and he shifted himself closer towards the tactician. Robin slid further onto the bed, widened his legs, spreading himself over the soft bed sheets, as his friend slid in between his thighs so his back ghosted Robin's chest. "Am I squishing you?"

"Ah…uh, no, you're fine…" the tactician gulped. This had all happened very suddenly. One moment, he was building up the nerve to go into to Chrom's tent, the next, they were entwined closely together on a bed. Robin's eyes widened, pupils dilating a little as he looked at those bare, broad shoulders right in front of him. "Should I start?"

"Go ahead." The lord was blissfully unaware of his friend's edginess. He let out a sigh when felt surprisingly strong hands grip his shoulders, and they began to gentle caress the skin with a slow, circular rhythm. His strained shoulder throbbed a little in response, but the touch was soft and warm, and he felt himself grow calm.

"Am I doing it too hard, or..?" Robin tried to mask the shakiness in his voice without much success. Chrom, however, did not notice and lidded his eyes a little.

"It's perfect. Thank you."

They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes. At one point, Robin built up the courage to let one hand stray from Chrom's shoulder and traced his nails gently down the toned skin of his back, which earned him a mixture of a laugh and a grunt. The rubbing and constant contact aroused the tactician slightly, but it almost lulled Chrom asleep. He'd had a busy day, and the incident with Lon'qu had left him puzzled. It was nice to spend some time with one of his closest friends.

Robin shifted his weight a little when he felt one of his legs lose blood circulation and tingle. In turn, Chrom leaned backwards into his comrade, so their bodies touched even more. Robin could feel the warmth of the lord's body seep through his own clothing, and he felt rather breathless. They were so close. Balancing his friend's weight on his torso, Robin returned his roaming hand the unattended shoulder and continued stroking his skin.

"Ungh…you are too good at this," the lord let out a moan, "This is very nice."

"I'm glad you think so," Robin smiled. He felt like he was enjoying this more than he should.

"I was…wondering if we could talk, actually." Chrom said. His speech was slightly stilted, through weariness and pleasure. "There are some things I need to get off my chest."

"You can tell me anything." Robin said. Once the statement left his lips, he felt rather embarrassed. He didn't want his affection to become too apparent, although part of him wondered what Chrom would do if he ever did anything more than hopelessly dither and attempt to flirt from time to time.

"I know. Thank you." Chrom smiled. The candlelight flickered, causing the room to darken for the shortest of seconds. "I wanted to continue our conversation from the hot spring, so I'm glad you stopped by now...I said…I said that everything had gone wrong. With Olivia. Do you remember?"

"Yes." The tactician could faintly smell Chrom's scent, and his heart was pounding. He hoped his friend wouldn't notice.

"I spoke to her briefly after I returned with Lon'qu from the woods. She seemed to be worried about my shoulder, which was nice, but she ran off straight after. I'm not sure where. And recently she's seemed to be shyer than usual, which is something I previously thought wasn't possible."

"I don't really know Olivia that well, to be honest. I should make an effort to team up with her during battles." Robin decided. "When did you notice she started acting a little distantly? You were inseparable lovebirds two years ago, if you don't mind me saying so."

A little bit of nostalgia gripped Chrom, and he nodded with a slightly crestfallen expression. "Yes. I thought I really loved her. I mean, I still...never mind." He did love her, didn't he? He couldn't have possibly have fallen out of love after only two years of marriage. "She went to see Basilio and Flavia in Regna Ferox when she was about eight months pregnant with Lucina. I didn't want her to go so late in the pregnancy, but I don't control her. I don't _want_ to control her." Chrom gave a little cough. Robin's fingers continued to trace his skin. "Lon'qu and Gregor also went with her, since they wanted to visit home, I suppose. When she came back, she was a little…_off_…but I put it down to her being pregnant."

"You don't think there could be a link between Olivia and them, do you?" Robin had nearly hit the nail on the head. "I mean, something may have happened—"

"If something _had_ happened, I think we would know about it by now. It would be hard to keep a secret for such a long time." Chrom shook his head. "I don't think Olivia and those two would have anything do with each other, anyway. Lon'qu's afraid of women, and Gregor prefers money more than anything. Honestly, I can't see anything happening between them."

Inwardly, Chrom felt awful. He was speculating whether it was possible that his wife was hiding things from him, and even suggesting that she was having an affair with another man. A part of him believed that she'd never do that, but logically, he couldn't be sure. He didn't want to think about it.

"You're right." Robin deduced. "Unless they knew each other before they joined us, it's likely that Gregor, Lon'qu and Olivia don't know each other very well anyway."

The lord let out a deep breath. "What am I doing, Robin? We barely know the backgrounds of some of the Shepherds, yet we're putting our lives in their hands during every single battle."

"Hey." Robin lightly tapped Chrom's good shoulder. "Don't speak like that. They're good people. Do you remember a few weeks after you found me in that field? I really stepped on your toes by telling you that you shouldn't be so trusting of complete strangers, yet you still accepted me."

"Yes, I remember. It feels like so long ago…" Chrom brought a hand to his face and rubbed his temple. "But Lon'qu…what happened with him today? I'm so confused."

"Like you said, I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding."

Robin decided to plunge, and he quickly wrapped his arms around his comrade. He told himself it was okay; they were just friends, and he was just comforting his commander. Chrom was surprised when he felt those arms enclose around him, and Robin held him close in the embrace. He leaned back into the touch quite innocently, and received his friend graciously. There was a lot of affection hidden behind the gesture, from both of the males.

"I'll talk to Lon'qu tomorrow." The lord lowered his voice to a whisper. He felt his friend's white hair wisp at the nape of his neck. "Thank you for being here for me, Robin."

Crouched on the floor, centimetres away, on the outside of the tent, was Olivia. She'd heard every word – she never meant to eavesdrop, but she had heard them mention her name when she walked past - and fear gripped her like a vice. They'd been so close to figuring it all out. Her visit to Regna Ferox _was_ where her love for Lon'qu had been reignited.

Fear wasn't the only emotion running rife within her. Worry, anxiousness, and uneasiness shook her mind. She wound a strand of pink hair around her finger, and tugged it; a release for her fear.

Chrom's wife stood slowly, and spun on her heel. She told herself, as she submerged herself into the darkness of the night, that she would do anything to keep her secret.

* * *

**...**

**Thank you for reading! And thanks for all the kinds reviews, follows and such so far - they really are lovely. **


	5. Chapter 5

Lon'qu had thrown himself into hot water, and he knew it.

He stood outside of Chrom's tent, his expression hard. He wouldn't let any flash of emotion slip through. Right now, he needed to make peace with Chrom. To protect Olivia.

"Er…Chrom?" He called out, as there was no door to knock on.

"Yes? Who is it?" The lord's voice was almost snatched away by a gentle zephyr that had rushed past. The weather wasn't as amiable as it had been on previous days – the summer air had turned to a chill, and the sun had been concealed behind a sheet of grey clouds.

The myrmidon gritted his teeth, just a little. "It's Lon'qu. I was wondering if we could talk."

Seconds later, Chrom opened the flap that acted as the entrance to his tent. Much to Lon'qu's surprise, Chrom looked…happy. There was a light smile on his face, and his eyes seemed to shine. "Of course we can. Unless you decide to attack me again."

The myrmidon's heart dropped into his stomach, as the lord let out a little laugh.

"I'm sorry, Lon'qu," Chrom apologised, and wandered back into his tent, gesturing with a beckoning hand that the myrmidon should follow. "That was in poor taste."

Lon'qu was in no mood for jesting. Was he ever?

The interior on the tent was messier than he thought it would be. Sheets of paper scrawled with battle plans, accounts from the army's coffers and records of weapons were discarded around haphazardly. His bed stood in the corner, and the sheets were ruffled, as if someone had just finished sleeping there.

"I…I've come to apologise about what happened yesterday." Lon'qu said, as he tried not to stare at his surroundings too much. "Allow me to explain myself."

As usual, Lon'qu wasn't one for courtesy. He didn't stop to ask whether Chrom had time to for his explanation, and didn't even attempt simple small talk. He was straight to the point. Oddly enough, the lord found that slightly refreshing. "That's fine. Take a seat."

Chrom sat himself at a wooden table that was laden miscellaneous objects, such as a mud-stained blue tunic and a quill.

"I'd prefer not to," the myrmidon replied. "I plan to go and train with the others after this."

The camp's recovery from the shock that was food poisoning had been going along well. Thanks to Maribelle, Lissa and Libra, there were no complications and everyone had recovered at a steady pace. Robin was holding a training session near the camp to help his comrades get back into the lifestyle that was theirs; battling, sleeping, getting up, and battling some more. The times should have been peaceful, but with the threat of Valm growing increasingly more powerful, the Shepherds needed to be at their strongest.

Chrom spread his hands, in a gesture that seemed slightly defensive, but that smile remained plastered on his face. It made Lon'qu feel slightly irate – as if Chrom was mocking him for a reason he wasn't aware of. In actual fact, Chrom's expression was only so rosy because of the time he'd been spending with Robin on the previous evening. The time they'd had together had done his shoulder wonders, and it had put his mind to rest about other things, too.

"I was planning to come and find you, to ask you about yesterday. I suppose you've saved me the trouble."

"You see, I walked away to investigate a noise I heard not far away." Lon'qu had rehearsed his explanation with Olivia in the small hours, over dim candlelight. "When I turned back, I saw you'd drawn Falchion. You yelled to me – I'm not sure what, since-"

"I told you to come back," Chrom clarified, his arms now folded.

The myrmidon gave a small cough. "Right. Yes. Anyway, I turned back. You had your sword drawn, and I misinterpreted that as a threat. I tried to hit you. You hurt your shoulder and I helped you up afterwards, and then we walked back to camp."

The real reason for Lon'qu's attack on Chrom? _Paranoia_.

The briefness of his explanation was ignored by Chrom, who commented in a quiet voice: "But we didn't find the miscreant who attacked Robin…"

"Ah…right."

Chrom sighed. "That's a shame."

The myrmidon, who was rather satisfied with the dismissive response Chrom had given him, was about to excuse himself and leave when the king's voice stopped him.

"Wait a minute, please."

What he'd said to Robin last night echoed through his mind. _I'll talk to Lon'qu tomorrow._

Despite that, he hesitated. He didn't want Lon'qu to know about the difficulties he was having with Olivia. If he asked about her, the myrmidon might find it suspicious. He was unlikely to pester him, Chrom judged, but still…it was best not to notify people he hardly knew about his marital problems. He had Robin to talk to about that sort of thing.

"No, no, it's nothing. You can leave." The lord dismissed him, with a slight shake of his head.

This piqued the myrmidon's curiosity, but it wasn't in his nature to pry. He needed to get out before Chrom started asking any more questions. "Right. Goodbye."

"Permission to enter, sir!" An unfamiliar voice shrieked from the outside of the tent. "I bring urgent news from Regna Ferox!"

Lon'qu paused in his path. Chrom stood, and unfolded his arms. "Come in."

A messenger slipped through the material folds of the door, saluted when he saw the king and hastily squeaked out a message: "I bring this from Flavia, East Khan of Regna Ferox!"

"Speak." Chrom ordered, and the scrawny messenger fiddled around with his bag. Eventually, he pulled out a slight worn scroll on which a message was inscribed. Lon'qu noticed a change in Chrom's demeanour; he was no longer relaxed, and he stood a little straighter. Like true royalty – like a king. This reminded the myrmidon even more of the consequences of his affair – if they were caught.

He wanted to leave, but something told him to stay. If Regna Ferox was in trouble, if Valm had invaded, he'd go back to Basilio. No matter what.

"The threat of Valm grows ever stronger, milord!" The messenger appeared to be quite clumsy, and almost dropped the scroll completely. He was sweating, Lon'qu noticed. Was Chrom really so feared by his subordinates? "Warships have been spotted. Both of the khans recommend you travel to Regna Ferox as soon as possible if negotiations are to be carried out!"

Lon'qu felt himself grow even angrier. The squeaky voice of the little whelp that was the messenger grated irritatingly against his ears, and Valm were trying to attack his – what he considered to be – _true_ home.

"Lon'qu." Chrom let his abruptly cool, serious gaze fall onto Lon'qu. The myrmidon tried to not twitch. "Fetch my tactician and notify the rest of the camp of the news. We leave immediately."

* * *

Several days passed during the journey from Ylisse to Regna Ferox, and the Shepherds were met with a fierce battle that strained even their strongest units when they arrived.

"Your victory was well earned, Chrom." Flavia, the East Khan of Regna Ferox, gave the leader a confident smile. "The fiend is dead."

Dalton, the leader of the seacomers from Valm, had been slain by Robin's hand. "But this town is in shambles." Basilio stood by his female counterpart, his face unusually serious. "As is my army."

The stood in the port, with piles of debris from the battle littered around them. Smashed crates that had previously held valuable goods had been plundered by a number of thieves that had seized the battle as an opportunity to line their pockets. The Shepherds had arrived just in time for the battle.

"Valm is a bigger threat than we thought." Chrom frowned. "This was just a vanguard."

"A taste of what is to come." Flavia added. "The real Valmese army would wash over us in weeks."

"Ylisse is not equipped to fight a battle at sea…" Chrom, at a loss, turned to his tactician. "What do you suggest, Robin?"

Robin looked troubled, and he ran a hand through his white hair. "We need to catch them at sea to avoid a slaughter, and we need aid from a kingdom that has sufficient war ships and the like to even stand a chance of winning."

They all paused.

The tactician stated in a quiet voice: "Plegia."

"No. Absolutely not. Out of the question." Chrom was quick to deny the suggestion. The tactician still knew his friend was stinging after the death of Emmeryn; her suicide had, in the end, saved them all. She'd met a noble death, yet Chrom still had difficulties discussing the subject. Even after two years.

"We have a fart's chance in the wind without them." Basilio said, crudely. "They have ships and gold."

"The oaf is correct." Flavia hefted her sword to her other shoulder. "It's settled. You and your army shall stay in a castle close to here for the night whilst preparations take place. We'll send a messenger to Plegia at once."

* * *

Both Olivia and Chrom had been slightly mortified when they were told they would be sharing a bed. Of course, they did not show it. They'd barely spoken in days. It had taken a day or two to reach Regna Ferox itself, and then the battle had taken place, which was another day.

Everyone had been sorry to leave the luxury that was the hot spring behind. Tharja was going to miss it dearly. After all, there was a good chance that she would see Robin naked in it. Maybe, when they were married, they would return there one day, she thought to herself dreamily.

Chrom's shoulder had healed in time for the confrontation with the seacomers, thanks to Robin's regular massages. In fact, it had never felt better.

"Good evening, Olivia." Chrom said, his voice slightly stiff as the atmosphere turned icy. They were in the bedroom that was decorated in a traditional Feroxi style; tall ceilings, bare wooden floors and a bed that was almost as hard as stone. Nevertheless, the room was one of the most luxurious bedrooms in the castle, which was reserved for the most noble of men.

"Good evening, Chrom." She replied, without a stutter. She sat on the bed, facing away from him, in a plain white night gown. "I'm going to sleep now."

With that, she lifted the soft down of the bed and slid between the sheets. She leant on her elbow as she blew out the candle that was flickering by her bedside before lying on her side and firmly shutting her eyes.

She hadn't even looked at him once.

She felt like she didn't love him anymore.

She loved Lon'qu.

The lord was uncomfortable, as he watched her feminine form lie quiescently on the bed. The dancer faced away from the centre of the bed, her view leading into a plain whitewashed wall, as if she didn't want to look at him. She did nothing. He did nothing.

Chrom didn't want to question her actions. Her coldness, and how detached she'd become. Partly because his feelings had become mutual; he wasn't inclined to climb into bed with her and hold her tight, like some husbands would. He'd never raised a hand against her, or stopped her doing what she wanted. He couldn't understand her frigidness.

He felt like he was missing something obvious, and something big. He wouldn't forget Lon'qu's attack – and he hadn't been really satisfied with the half-hearted explanation that had been delivered to him. But that wasn't linked to Olivia in any way…was it?

She was beautiful, but he simply did not feel attracted to her anymore.

The great lord shook his head, as if he was trying to remove the very thoughts from his mind.

"I'm going to see Robin." He said, as he swiped a pair of loose silken trousers he planned to sleep in. He swung open the heavy wooden door without looking back. She did not acknowledge him. She felt bitter, and her eyes flickered open, and she caught a glimpse of him leaving. _Robin, Robin, Robin._ The dancer was not malicious, but she hoped that Chrom wouldn't return.

Chrom moved through the Feroxi castle towards Robin's room with a purpose. He'd memorised the route earlier. He'd anticipated that he'd have to leave his wife – he was terrible in awkward situations.

"Robin?" He knocked quietly on the door. Many of the Shepherds had been assigned to rooms close to each other, apart from the married couples, who slept together. Men and women slept separately, unless they were married, of course. But there were no rules about two men sleeping in the same room.

He entered the room when Robin called to him to come in. He was greeted with a warm smile, bright eyes and an invitation to stay the night. Chrom accepted it with a sigh of relief. The two friends joked a little, and the lord felt the stress lift from his shoulders. Robin always had this effect on him. At that moment, he felt closest to Robin than anyone else in the entire world. There was no one who he could trust more, or feel more affection for.

But there was affection…and then there was love.

Robin had already dealt with his feelings. He didn't like to hide things from Chrom. He loved the man, and he was sure about that. Not just emotionally, but the tactician loved him physically, too. He'd figured that out when he'd seen his impressive body at the hot spring days earlier.

However, the lord was a father and a husband. He had a family. Robin did not.

The tactician also didn't know how or if same-sex relationships were tolerated in Ylisse. He'd only heard the word 'sodomy' on a village street somewhere, and it had been uttered by some drunkards lolling around outside a drink house. He'd gone back to camp and looked it up in a dictionary:

_'Sodomy - noun_

_Forms of non-procreative intercourse, including lust derived orally and anally. Often used in the case of a man lying with another man as he would with a woman - an unnatural practice.'_

Anal? Oral? It made Robin's head buzz.

Same sex couples were almost non-existent, at least in the world of nobility. Chrom's world. His love for his friend, though unwavering, somehow felt…_illegal._ No one spoke of sodomy, at least not in Robin's presence. The thought of men and men…together…_touching…_

It made the tactician's body throb.

Robin wanted to tell him how he felt. He watched his friend silently, as Chrom pulled spare blankets and pillows from underneath his bed. He was smiling. Some part of him told him that the the lord _surely_ felt the same way.

"Chrom." He said, as his smile faded and nervousness swelled in his stomach like an infected wound. "I have something I need to tell you."

* * *

**...**

**As usual, thank you for reading! And thanks for the reviews, follows and favourites that followed the previous chapter. Just a quick note - I have checked for errors, and I'll recheck later, but occasionally I may miss a few! Hopefully, that does not impact the reading quality too much. Have a good day.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Warning: This chapter contains yaoi (slash, whatever you want to call it). Don't like, don't read.**

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Robin had to question his sense of timing.

Was it really right now confess…now? When the kingdom was on the cusp of war? When he'd only been married for a year? With a daughter that wasn't even able to walk or even talk yet?

He felt his lips go dry, his mouth too, as his heart hammered in his chest. Chrom was watching him, a concerned expression on that handsome face. He was saying something, but the ringing in the tactician's ears made any sound completely inaudible.

He tried to reason with himself.

Chrom's marriage was falling apart. His daughter never had to know anything about Robin's feelings – no one did. The threat of Valm meant many more battles were due, and that meant spending a lot of time with the Ylissean king to tackle the obstacles that were sure to come. Could he work with Chrom's blatant obliviousness? Continue to provoke him with weak dalliance?

If things took an unexpected turn for the worst, Robin knew he was a little faster than Chrom. Darting out of the door to make a quick escape wasn't impossible. However, they were in very close proximity to each other. A large oaken wardrobe, a plain white chair and a narrow single bed were crammed into the already cramped room. The only source of light a small lantern that housed a swaying flame, and so it was rather dark, with the presence of black shadows on the walls. A glass window that was concealed behind a thin wisp of a white curtain betrayed nothing of the freezing weather outside.

It was evident that there was nothing to stop the lord grabbing him if things turned sour.

"Robin, what is it?" Chrom sat on the tactician's bed, as his friend had asked him to. He felt himself sweat a little. The lord was nervous for him – it seemed like he was confessing to a crime, like he had done something wrong.

"Ah, well, you see…" The tactician swiped a bead of sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. He didn't know how to word this. At all. "I…I do think that…me and you, we have…er…"

Chrom looked up at the trembling man who stood in front of him. "Yes?"

"A…a certain type of _bond_…"

He paused.

"Yes?" Chrom repeated.

"I'm sorry, it's nothing." Robin lost his nerve and took a step away from his friend, and in response, Chrom stood up. The tactician was almost intimidated by the action. "I-I think I left some stock outside, I should really return it to the armou-"

His eyes widened with a mixture of fear and surprise when he felt a hand grip his wrist, and the lord halted Robin's path to the door. "Not now. You need to tell me what's been bothering you first."

Another gentle pull on his wrist made him turn his body to Chrom, face-to-face. They were the same height, but Robin opted to look and down and fixed his gaze on his shoulder instead. He felt those cerulean eyes pierce into his face.

When the lord loosened his grip on Robin's wrist, the tactician felt obliged to speak again. "I need to tell you, I'm sorry…"

"Sorry for what?" Chrom, though still in the dark, was beginning to get an inkling of an idea. Those soft touches, sly glances, coy smiles…were they the sort of things two men did to each other? His chest ached dully. He remembered his friend's words from a few days ago, during their intimate time in his tent. "You can tell me anything."

Robin smiled as his own words were thrown back at him. "I…I know." He hung his head. "You and I…we have a bond. I can feel it."

"I can feel it, too."

Slightly encouraged by this reassurance, the tactician continued: "Our relationship feels different…I don't feel the same way about anyone else. And I want you to know something very important."

Robin moved a sweaty hand and entwined his fingers with Chrom's. He gulped, paled, and tilted his head to meet Chrom's gaze. He stared at those vibrant blue eyes for a second, as sweat trickled down his spine and the muscle in his chest began to thump furiously.

"I…I don't think of you as just a friend. I have feelings for you…" His cheeks blazed. "…Romantic ones."

Chrom's knees buckled, as if he'd been hit by some immense force, and he let go of Robin's hand. "Oh."

He sat back down on the bed, as he began to tremble. This couldn't possibly be right. Two men, a king and his most trusted tactician, his closest friend…

_Friend. _Could he even consider Robin as a friend anymore? He watched his comrade, wide-eyed, and a blush rushed to his face when the bed creaked as the tactician sat next to him.

"No…no amount of apologising can make this right, can it?"

Distinct grief filled Robin's voice.

"But…I'm sorry…so, so sorry…"

"Stop apologising. Stop saying that." Chrom was surprised when he heard himself snarl, and quickly recollected himself. "No…I mean, I…"

_I feel the same way._

He shook his head as anxiety curled inside his stomach. He looked at Robin, with a sideways glance. The whiteness of his face matched his hair with a startling likeness, and the lord could almost see the gears working in his head. Chrom had often been called reckless, and surged ahead without any doubt in the most difficult of situations. It was part of his nature, and nothing had changed.

It was this recklessness that allowed him to forget Olivia for a while – to do what he wanted, without having to consider the consequences that would follow if he did anything too untoward.

He observed his comrade, and properly acknowledged the features of his appearance. The soft white hair that wisped the nape of his neck, the heavy dark coat that hung off his slim, limber build. An attractive, yet clearly distraught face, and a sea of soft white skin. Hands with slender fingers. Legs that were graceful in their movement and nature, flanked again by that sinister dark coat.

He saw Robin stiffen when he moved closer, and closer. Side-by-side on the bed, Chrom watched as the tactician fiddled with his hands, and bit his bottom lip until it bled. No sounds, no words; just pure silence.

Chrom leaned towards him with a purpose, shifting his weight to the right. The tactician didn't push him away – he was shaking too much for that – but instead turned his head so only a pale cheek was exposed.

He jerked when he felt Chrom's lips ghost his face. A kiss. Chrom was _kissing_ his cheek.

Chrom pulled away slowly, but remained close. Robin's face was unexpectedly soft; not unpleasant to kiss in the slightest. He brought a gloved hand to the tactician's mouth, and guided his face back so he could see it. Their eyes locked. He ran a thumb over the blood that was gathering over the puncture where Robin had bit his lip, cleaning up the traces in slow, gentle movements.

He pulled his hand away, the glove stained in one patch by smears of crimson. For a long minute, they searched each other's faces. Now there were no secrets. Nothing to hide.

But there was still hesitance from both of the men, which was as clear as a teardrop. Chrom was thinking of his duties as a father, a husband, and as a leader. Worry tugged at him – could he really betray Olivia like this? He paused, but only for a second.

Another kiss, initiated by the lord. On Robin's lips, this time. It was slow, almost yearning. His lips were soft, slightly tainted by the blood that Chrom had missed. His first kiss, Robin realised. He assumed he'd never done such a thing with someone else before – unless he had before he'd lost his memory.

The closest he'd gotten to romance was through some books he'd borrowed from Sumia at some point or other. The pair had bonded over their fondness of reading, so the tactician was never in short supply of a novel or two. He'd mistakenly picked out romantic novels occasionally – all of them written from female viewpoints – with detailed descriptions of saucy exploits between men and women. He'd been very surprised – shocked, actually – that a noblewoman such as Sumia had such explicit material. Nevertheless, he never mentioned it to her, and returned each book to her with a smile. However…there were never scenes between men and men, which raised a question that Robin had been musing over for some time:

How did two men even have sex?

"I'm happy you told me that, Robin." The silence was shattered in seconds. Chrom let out a smile that seemed to be both happy and hopeless. "I'm…confused, but…this feels right, doesn't it?"

Relief crashed into Robin like a wave, and he felt like he was drowning. The tactician could see it already; Chrom was accepting him. "It does."

And so their lips met again, with a little more force than the last time. Chrom knew his friend was new to the practice, and took the dominant role of guiding him. There was a thrill, a sexual excitement that was building within both of their bodies. A breathy moan escaped Robin's lips when he felt Chrom move down to his neck and suckle on the skin a little, before returning to his mouth.

When Robin opened his mouth a little, to let Chrom's prying tongue gain access, he was a little too quick about it. His teeth scraped against Chrom's wet muscle, and the lord pulled away with a yelp.

"Gods, Chrom, I'm sorry!"

Instead of chastising him, Chrom laughed and the atmosphere thawed from solemn to awkwardly humorous. "No…no, it's okay. We'll do this together."

"I'm not sure what to do…" Robin confessed.

"Well, I'll try and show you. Just…don't bite my tongue, okay?" The lord said, before commencing another caress with his lips.

They did try again, and Robin managed to open his mouth a little wider without hurting his partner. After a few hungry kisses, he decided he quite liked it, despite feeling a little odd about the entire situation. They were very close, embraced on the bed, Robin's hands looped around his neck whilst Chrom had his hands still fixed on Robin's hips.

It didn't take Robin long to feel a faintly-familiar tugging feeling in his groin. He'd read about it somewhere, in an old biology text: blood rushes to the genitalia during sexual arousal, which in turn hardens the penis in preparation for…

He felt himself panic, worried that his comrade would see, or even worse, _feel_ his growing erection. He wormed out of Chrom's grip, much to his partner's surprise, and rose from the bed.

"What are you doing?" Chrom said, disappointment on his face as he watched the tactician stumble to his feet.

"Just…cooling off," he said, with a shaky smile. The tactician hoped this moment away from the lord would allow him to calm down, and he turned on his heel to face his friend. One thing both Robin and Chrom shared was their tendency to leave their rooms in a mess – and the small room they were both sharing now was no different. Loose papers, some scrawled with ink, others blank, lay randomly on the floor. Worn, heavy tomes were piled on the chair and even a steel sword had been tossed carelessly under the bed.

This habit of leaving his belongings in a mess came back to bite him when Robin slipped on a piece of paper. He fell awkwardly, one hand grasping out forward to catch himself on the bed, as his other arm flailed helplessly. He landed on his bottom, much to his horror, his mouth agape.

Chrom grinned at him from the bed.

"Ungh! Ow!" Robin stood up quickly, embarrassed, his expression sour. Faint pain shot down to the bottom of his back. The tactician turned away, to avoid Chrom's mirth and to hide his own embarrassment. However, he was still close to the bed, and he felt hands rest on the curve of his waist.

He was pulled backwards, and landed heavily on Chrom's lap, who responded with a chuckle. "Are you hurt?"

Robin sighed. "Humiliated…but otherwise, I'm fine."

His crotch throbbed, as if it was mocking him. He wanted to ask Chrom if he had any idea of how men did…_it_…if it was even possible. Nervousness calmed his nether regions a little.

"Listen, I need to ask you something…" Robin hoisted himself off the lord's lap and sat on the ruffled sheets of the bed. "Is it possible…I mean, can…can two…"

He trailed off. If he asked, Chrom might feel pressured into doing...certain activities. He didn't want that. But the tactician's curiosity managed to get the better of him.

"Yes?" The tactician was prompted.

Robin bit his lip again, though not with as much force as he had done before. A gesture that was derived through embarrassment, not guilt. "Is it…is it actually possible for…for two men to actually, have, ah…sex?"

Chrom blinked. "I…I don't know the ins-and-outs of it myself…"

It seemed impossible for the blushes on each of their faces to worsen, but they did. They cringed at his choice of wording.

_Maybe we can find out_, the tactician thought. He wasn't bold enough to say it, and instead pushed away the feelings of mutual embarrassment with another kiss.

Whilst Robin was trying to fend off an erection, Chrom was fighting another battle. Pleasure began to shroud his mind, but someone kept appearing in his thoughts.

Olivia. His wife. Back in her room, alone, unaware of what her husband was doing. His daughter, Lucina, innocent, without her parents in Ylisstol. He kept justifying it to himself. Olivia and he weren't close anymore. Besides, it wasn't like he was getting _any_ from her. He had needs. Robin could help him fulfil them. Still, he had to recall times with his wife in order to make Robin feel good…he'd lost his virginity to her, after all. It was quite likely that Robin was a virgin. He needed to take care of him – if they ever got that far.

Chrom wouldn't let this relationship fail like his one with Olivia's had. He shut her out.

Still…he had noticed the tell-tale bulge in his comrade's trousers. Robin's eyes were shiny, lips moist. The arousal he was feeling was easy to see. Chrom was having a…harder time getting it up.

It was through no fault of the tactician's. The lord was just dizzy, confused, even though he had initiated the kisses. He was the one who had pressed further, the first one to begin the physical contact. He didn't know why he wasn't getting as hard, and he didn't even know if it was right for two close friends of the same gender to be doing such things.

But he did know that he wanted to make Robin feel good.

He reached over to his friend, who was panting a little, and let his hand dive under his shirt. He could feel slabs of firm muscle under a covering of marmoreal skin – obviously, his strenuous lifestyle kept him very fit.

Skin on skin was something that Chrom felt was appealing.

"Robin…can we take these off?" He gestured to their own clothes, and removed his hand from the tactician's stomach.

Their gazes met again. His question was met with a miniscule, shy nod.

Undressing each other seemed like an impossible task, with all of the pieces of armour that they still wore, so they undressed themselves. When they were in the process of removing their attire – Chrom with his toned torso exposed, Robin still fiddling with a rather tight sleeve on his undershirt – the lord paused and looked at his comrade.

"Can you blow out the lantern, please?"

The tactician was surprised at his request, but not unwilling. "Why?"

"I…I don't know. It would just be nice to…touch, wouldn't it? Without having to worry about whether we're blushing or making an odd face or anything…"

Robin was rather thankful for the suggestion – he thought that if anyone was going to make a stupid face, it would be him – and so he stood on the bed, still trembling, and blew out the candle that flickered within the lantern.

A loud bang from the corridor could be heard, but in their passionate state, both of the men ignored it.

They were plunged into darkness. Now, their hands moved feverishly as the pair dropped articles of clothing carelessly onto the floor. They relied on their hearing to detect where they both were, and what was going on. Gentle clangs of smaller pieces of armour that they still wore could be heard, as well as the shuffle of fabric and the occasional creak of the bed. A belt being unbuckled, a heavy robe tossed onto the floor, a sharp intake of breath when they accidently struck the wall or edge of the narrow bed with shaking hands.

Occasionally, they nudged into each other, flesh grinding against flesh. Under the gloom of the room, the darkness boosted their confidence a little; there was no need for sight, or pretences.

Unfortunately, the lack of visibility was hazardous. Chrom fell off the bed at one point with a muffled thud. Luckily, the pile of clothing they'd left on the floor softened his fall. They both laughed at this, sharing and bonding in the blunders that they were both making.

"Are you done?" Robin asked.

"Mm, yes." Chrom replied. No nervousness slipped through his voice.

Robin felt overwhelmed as he began a gentle exploration of his partner's body. Hands that were slow and hesitant at first gained confidence as they traced a hard chest, and an even harder stomach. Soft caresses slipped around Robin's body, too, as they both simply got used to the idea of being amorous with another man.

Robin built the courage to move his touches further south. They let their hands explore each other for a while longer, as Chrom leant against the headboard and Robin knelt between his legs. The lord felt those hands slide from his neck, down to his chiselled chest, over the bulging muscles of his stomach, and descend the middle of his parted legs…

"Oh…" Robin let out a little sigh when his hand traced against Chrom's most private parts. "You're still a little…a bit…"

"Soft?" The lord's voice was tainted with bitterness. "I know, I'm sorry…I'm nervous."

_So am I_, the tactician thought, as he felt his comrade's fingertips trace around his lower back, in a gesture that was as soothing as it was teasing. Despite that, Robin was disappointed. Was he not good enough?

"It's not you, it's me..." The classic line. Chrom had used it before with Olivia, on a few occasions – most memorably, their wedding night, when he'd been both exhausted and unbearably nervous.

"Well, maybe I can h-help..?" Robin grew a little more audacious. "I could…touch it more?"

Chrom nodded his head, which Robin couldn't see through the lack of light. "Uh…you can try…"

The only experience Robin had with this was when he'd touched himself, alone. Sumia's erotic novels would hopefully come into some use, too. He knew what felt good to him, but it was quite possible that his tastes would differ to Chrom's. With a large amount of reluctance, he started. He traced the tip, felt it dampen, and clenched his hand into a fist. He began to pump.

Yet the lord didn't harden.

After a few minutes, Chrom let out a deep sigh. "Let's try something different."

Robin removed his hand. "Was it really that bad?"

The lord inwardly kicked himself. He didn't want to crush Robin's already non-existent sexual confidence. "No, no, of course not. I…just want to try you."

"Me?"

"Yes."

Robin had heard of oral copulation from a few of Sumia's romance novels – the word _sodomy _sprung to mind, as it sometimes referred to oral sex – but he wasn't prepared for the amount of pleasure it involved. Chrom sat up, gave Robin a gentle shove backwards onto the bed and lowered his head.

The lord got the idea of…_sucking_…from Olivia. Robin was just as surprised as Chrom had been when Olivia had given him his first taste of oral sex, not long after they had first married.

"Oh my…nngh!" The tactician gave out a raspy cry when warmth enveloped his length, and he pushed Chrom's head down. A virginal mistake.

The lord gagged, and removed the shaft from his mouth. "Ugh! No…don't."

"Oh…I'm s-sorry, Chrom." He let out another gasp when he felt warmth circulate his length again. Something pleasurable ached in his lower stomach, and it was growing. Pleasure mounted feverishly as he let his hips move, gently, so he didn't risk hurting his partner.

It was so _hot_.

"I'm going to..!" Robin cried out, and bucked up brutally into his partner's mouth. Chrom choked again, felt warm seed trickle onto his tongue. He tried to swallow, like he remembered Olivia doing. It was bitter. He couldn't swallow it all, and some dribbled down the side of his mouth. He wiped it away and sat back on the bed, slightly exhausted.

Fatigue set in on Robin's body, but he was a little mortified. He'd climaxed _so _quickly, and Chrom hadn't climaxed at all.

The tactician absent-mindedly wondered if this meant he'd lost his virginity, and whether this was how two men actually were intimate. Something bothered him. The dictionary definition on sodomy had definitely involved the word '_anally'_.

How would that work?

"Let me finish you, Chrom." It was Robin's turn to lower himself, and the inexperienced male was still basking in the glow of his climax. He supported the top of his body with his arms, and traced that well-defined body again, with soft strokes and tender caresses. He worked his way down, recalled from Sumia's novels how some of the protagonists had kissed different parts of their partners' bodies. He did the same. Kisses littered the lord's chest, his stomach, and his thighs. Little gasps were given out by Chrom, who was finally getting harder.

"Gods, Robin…" The lord panted. Robin's roaming hands were somehow ticklish, teasing and tantalising all at once.

Aware of his own inexperience, he knelt, and stuck his tongue out. Chrom gasped when he felt his wet tongue slide around the top of his member. Robin was too cautious to take the whole length in his mouth, and they found that his gag reflex was astonishingly sensitive. The tactician experimented, by sucking in his cheeks a little, blowing warm air onto the tip, nudging his face into the musky base. Slowly, he learnt what his partner really liked.

It was an experience, Robin decided. He could feel the thrum of blood in the arousal, as he held the base of the shaft with one hand and continued his oral ministrations. He was still in a state of disbelief that Chrom was allowing him to do this. The tip of his length was smooth against his tongue, yet satisfyingly hard and moist. He suckled, groaned, gagged when he took the shaft a little too far into his mouth.

Stroking that white hair, gripping his head with his fingertips, Chrom reached his orgasm. The tactician pulled away when he felt his partner's release approach, a little afraid and quite curious. He lapped up the release as he listened Chrom's heavy breathing, tasting some of the liquid that had pooled around his thighs and base. The essence had a salty taste to it, he noticed, which was something he didn't expect.

Content, sweaty and fatigued, the pair lay down together. After a few minutes of shuffling around, they sank under the sheets, bodies nestled close.

Chrom was feeling a bittersweet combination of guilt and satisfaction, whereas his partner was elated. Robin hadn't thought about Olivia at all, and she barely danced into his thoughts before he fell asleep.

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**First, I want to to thank _overtired, _who really helped with this chapter. It wouldn't have gotten up to this standard without them! Also, thanks for the reviews/follows/favourites/views so far. They are very much appreciated. This chapter was actually a lot longer than I expected it to be, so I hope the extended length doesn't make it a chore to read xP Thanks for reading!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Before you read this chapter, please note that the word 'tribade' is a medieval word that was used to refer to lesbians. **

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Tharja had never been so stunned in her entire life.

In fact, at first, she wasn't even sure what she was seeing. The keyhole that she was using to spy through was narrow and obscured her view of Robin's room. It didn't help that the room itself was dark – the illumination of the flickering candle housed inside the lantern was very weak. She had to press herself right against the door, whilst kneeling, to get a glimpse of the two figures on the bed.

She strained her ears for sounds of other Shepherds or inhabitants of the Feroxi castle that might have been walking around the corridors, but it was extremely late. The small hours of the next day were rapidly approaching.

The dark mage watched with wide eyes as the two men embraced, their lips locked together in a passionate kiss. From her position, she had a sideways-view of the two friends. She saw Robin's hands lock tenderly around his comrade's neck as the kiss deepened, his eyes lidded with lust. Occasionally, they pulled away from each other, muttered words that Tharja couldn't quite hear.

She was too shocked to react properly. The dark mage couldn't tear her eyes away. She'd only visited Robin's room to watch him sleep, or perhaps sneak in and sit close to his unconscious body. It was one of her favourite pastimes.

Tharja had only heard of people of the same gender having such sexual relations when she was younger; a new recruit to the Plegian army, several years before the battle that ended in Emmeryn's death. Tribade (sexual love between two women, as Tharja knew it) wasn't uncommon in the Plegian military, as men and women were housed and trained separately. The only time most soldiers came across a member of the opposite sex was in the heat of battle – and that was the wrong type of heat to search for a spouse in (although that was something couples in Chrom's army might have disagreed with).

Women in Tharja's regiment – and many others – had no problems with using each other for sexual release. It was widely accepted. Military life was tough, and anything that let them forget about their rival nation, Ylisse, was more than welcome. Tharja had certainly dabbled before with such tribadism, although she had not gone all the way.

She'd assumed that men had partaken in sex with each other as well, but she was still surprised to see it right in front of her. Particularly from the lord – who was _married_ to Olivia. Tharja thought that it was unexpected that a man who appeared to be so self-righteous and respectable – at least to her eyes – was cheating on his wife with another man.

Something slightly erotic inside her throbbed when she saw the two friends undress, albeit awkwardly. She observed the shaky hands, trembling fingers as fastenings were undone and belts were unbuckled. She ignored Chrom, and fixed her gaze on Robin as he shed his robe.

After a few moments of articles of clothing being removed and subsequently dumped onto the floor, she heard Chrom address Robin, his voice just about clear enough for her to understand his words:

"Can you blow out the lantern, please?"

"Why?" She heard the tactician respond. She was aware that she was eavesdropping, but it honestly didn't bother her. The dark mage was only concerned about being caught.

"I…I don't know. It would just be nice to…touch, wouldn't it? Without having to worry about whether we're blushing or making an odd face or anything…"

To Tharja's ears, Chrom sounded feeble and utterly pathetic. Why would you _not_ want to see Robin's body? It was smooth, probably warm, with abs that were begging to be stroked, shoulders pleading to be bitten and lips that were desperate to be kissed. Not to mention that slim, toned torso. Just the thought of his body made her fantasise about him in situations that weren't even legal. But not _sodomy_, although she was unsure of Ylisse's legislation on same-sex sexual relationships.

Despite her mental protests, the candle was blown out. Gloom hindered her vision like a thick fog, and the two men were now blanketed under a caliginous darkness. She hissed in annoyance, angered as she could no longer see Robin. No amount of squinting would let her eyes see through the inky room, and she lacked a tome that would improve her visibility.

Annoyed and enraged, she stood and took a step away from the door. Jealousy tugged at her heartstrings as she imagined Chrom in _her_ place. It was infuriating. Outrageous. It made her sick with anger.

Yet she still held so much love for Robin. Dozens of excuses ran through her head for the tactician's actions:

Maybe this was Robin's plan to try and make her jealous? Was he teasing her? Pretending that he didn't love her, just to make her want him even more?

These reasons she imagined didn't quell her rage in the slightest. The tactician was unaware that he was being watched, after all. In an action fuelled by frustration and anger, she swung the heavy tome she was carrying and slammed it against the wall next to the door.

The bang was much louder than she expected.

She recoiled, clutching the tome against her chest, worried that either Chrom or Robin had heard and would come to investigate. She darted her head from one end of the murky corridor to the other as she carefully examined the area with her ears, as well as her eyes. She judged that it would be a good opportunity to leave.

Tharja felt her heart sink as she stole away to her own room, her mind racing. Rage simmered within her, but she also felt a new, foreign emotion. An unpleasant one. Betrayal? Heartbreak? She didn't know.

Within a matter of minutes, she was sitting on her own bed. Her sharp mind formulated a plot quickly: there was still a way she could make the tactician hers. She had more power over the two men, now; a sordid secret that could literally tear Ylisse and its leader into less than nothing.

Tharja would never tire of the chase for Robin's heavenly affections - this wasn't the end. She shivered in sweet anticipation.

No…this was only just the beginning.

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Robin would have liked to wake up the next morning gently. Maybe Chrom's voice would coax him out of a peaceful slumber, or he'd simply awake to fresh early-morning sunlight warming his face. Maybe he would wake Chrom first – with a kiss, perhaps. Then they'd lie together, comfortably, the tactician in the lord's arms, and enjoy a drowsy silence. There would be no awkwardness, and no mention of how different it was for two men to be indulging in such intimate company.

The real awakening he got was one far away from his fantasies.

"Robin, open up!" Someone pounded heavily on the door with a clenched fist. "If you don't wake up, I'm coming in there!"

"V-Vaike?!" Robin blinked the sleepiness away from his eyes as he recognised the owner of the voice. "Don't come in!"

"Why not? You sleep in your smallclothes or somethin'?" Vaike chuckled from behind the door.

The tactician knew how terrible this would look if anybody came in now. Both he and Chrom were naked, their decency only covered by a thin, white bed sheet. Their clothes were scattered carelessly on the floor in a series of crumpled heaps. As the bed had been intended for one person, not two, the pair were nestled very close together. The tactician had been sleeping with his head nuzzled into the crook of Chrom's neck. Hurriedly, Robin extracted himself from his comrade's sleeping body.

Chrom wasn't awoken by Vaike's loud thumping. He was awoken by Robin, who had to climb across his sleeping form in order to get out of bed. The tactician slid quickly across Chrom's sheet-covered waist, and hopped off the bed.

"Nngh…Robin, what are you-"

"Chrom's there too?! Great!" Vaike pounded on the door again. "I haven't got all day, Robin!"

The lord smiled to himself when he heard Robin curse angrily under his breath and snatch up his rather sinister robe from the floor. He admired his comrade's slim form, as he ran his eyes from his supple thighs up to the faint curve of his shoulder blades, and back down to that pale, yet nicely toned rear.

"What do you want?!" The tactician was not amused.

"Oh, Vaike, I'll talk to them." Robin could hear Virion's voice, too.

"Teach knows what he's doing!"

"Breakfast's nearly over! It was delicious!" Stahl piped up.

Robin cursed himself for not locking the door on the previous night. The tactician wrapped his robe over the front of his body and plucked a key from one of his pockets. He approached the door and fumbled with the lock for several moments, as Chrom looked on with a distinct mix of worry, mirth and faint arousal.

The tactician gasped when the door knob began to turn.

"Right, Teach is coming in!"

"NO! Stay there!" Robin's voice came out as a high-pitched shriek. "Just talk to me like this!"

Vaike gave out a long, over-exaggerated sigh. "You _do_ sleep in your smallclothes, don't you?"

"Don't be so crude, Vaike." Virion chastised him.

"Guys…we won't have any time to train if we keep messing around." Stahl said.

"Quite right." Virion said. "Robin, Chrom, we were going to go training. Would you be so gracious as to join us?"

The tactician felt that he could breathe again when he heard the key click into the lock. He turned away from the door and gave Chrom a wan look, and the lord smiled back at him. A smile rose to Robin's own lips as he simply looked at Chrom for a few precious seconds; his blue hair was tousled, that well-defined chest bare, and the outline of everything below his waist was visible underneath the white bed sheet. Disbelief crossed the tactician's mind for a few seconds – he almost thought that last night had been a dream.

"Yes or no?" Stahl prompted. "We're kind of running short on time."

"No, thank you. We need to make arrangements with Plegia." Chrom's expression sank from a smile into a frown. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Thirty minutes past eleven, roughly." Virion answered. "We were wondering why you weren't up yet."

"We both slept in." Chrom gave a vague answer. The trio outside the room didn't question why the lord was sleeping in Robin's room because he did it so often.

"Then farewell, friends. We shall depart for the training grounds." Virion's tone, as usual, was dripping with finery.

Footsteps faded down the corridor as Robin returned to the bed and sank down on it, still wrapped in his robe. Now they were alone. Worry gnawed at the tactician, although not as fiercely as it had done when he'd confessed to Chrom. He felt his cheeks burn at the not-so-distant memory.

He had one question that needed answering.

"Do you regret it, Chrom?"

The lord's gaze met Robin's. He was lying on his side, in a relaxed position that gave him a rather lazy air.

Chrom replied without falter. "No."

He sat up properly, with the bed sheet still covering the majority of his naked body. The lord leaned over and kissed Robin on the lips; a plain kiss that wasn't too hard or too soft, or too reluctant or overly-passionate. It gave the tactician the reassurance he was looking for.

"It goes without saying that we can't tell anyone." Chrom said, as he pulled away.

"Of course," the tactician replied with a nod, a little breathless from the lord's touch. He rose from the bed and began to gather up more of his clothes scattered on the floor. "Anyway, I think we should get up before people start coming to conclusions."

"I should probably get some clean clothes from my room before the others see me." Chrom said, as he stretched a hand to the floor and swiped up his smallclothes. "I hope Olivia isn't there…"

Robin stiffened. "I suppose what I did last night won't help your marriage at all."

"Our marriage isn't really a happy one, whether you intervene or not," Chrom said. "And it wasn't just you. I…I kissed you first."

The tactician let out an unsatisfied sigh. "I suppose you're right. I didn't feel like this earlier, but now you mention her name…this feels dishonest."

"It is dishonest." Chrom clarified. "And I don't think she'd ever…_cheat _on me, either."

"Really? Even after what we said in your tent a few days ago?" Robin recalled the conversation they'd had whilst the tactician massaged Chrom's injured shoulder, when they'd tried to discern Olivia's cold behaviour towards her husband. It was a possibility that she had a lover, but Chrom couldn't bring himself to believe that. He didn't want to think ill of her, even if he wasn't happy as her spouse.

"I just don't see her as the sort of person who would sneak around behind my back." Chrom said, decisively. "She's…she's very shy."

"I need to make an effort to get to know her," Robin said, as he began to button up a pair of clean trousers, "I don't know her very well."

"Good luck with that," Chrom said, with negativity woven into his voice. "When we talk, it feels like I can hardly get a word out of her."

"The clue's in my title," Robin raised his head and gave Chrom a playful wink. "_Tact_-ician. If I approach her tactfully, she'll talk to me."

"Well…if you think so."

When Chrom was half-dressed, his tactician unlocked the door. "I'm going to find Frederick and see if there has been any reply from Plegia."

He paused.

Chrom felt his gaze and looked away from the fastening on his cloak. "What is it?"

Wordlessly, the tactician approached and gave Chrom an affectionate, brief kiss. He was gone before the lord had time to respond.

* * *

**...**

**Not much of Lon'qu and Olivia (again, sorry about that), but they'll hopefully be coming up in the following chapters. Thanks once again for all the reviews, feedback, follows and whatnot from the previous chapter! :D **


	8. Chapter 8

Lon'qu wasn't the sort of man to wander around empty corridors aimlessly. Nor was he a man who skipped training sessions, denied the chance to hone his skills or succumb to simple laziness. He hardly ever caught himself daydreaming, or reminiscing, either. But this time he couldn't help himself.

The castle that the Shepherds were currently residing in was very similar to the one he, Gregor and Olivia had been staying in shortly before Lucina's birth. In fact, it could have been the same one; Lon'qu had been living in different Feroxi castles for over half of his lifetime, and one thing he'd noticed was the bland, consistent architecture. Each castle was built like a fort, each room like a private citadel, every door embellished with locks. Plain white walls hardly ever bore portraits or artwork, and furniture was usually basic and built solely for the function it was designed to serve.

Olivia's bedroom was the only one that was lavish.

It reminded him of two years ago; just before Lucina was born, when he, Olivia and Gregor had made the trip to Regna Ferox:

Both he and the dancer remembered it clearly; her reaction, his bluntness. His anger, her rage. The dancer appeared to be the sort of woman who dealt with her feelings meekly, with quiet protests and silent outcries. Their brief discussion in her bedroom, two years before, was the only time that the myrmidon had seen Olivia when she was truly _fuming_.

Her bedroom had been especially decorated and pampered. The room was draped in a virginal white hue, from the cushions to the curtains. Soft lace hemmed every pillow, the bedding had been spun from silk and the seats on the chairs had been embroidered from fine thread that detailed ornate filigree.

Chrom's wife had been sitting alone, enjoying the quiet comfort and relishing every moment she was spending with her unborn baby. Her waist was thick, her stomach rotund with her husband's child. One hand rested on the swell on her belly as she watched flakes of snow flutter past the window in front of her. It was only a month until the birth was due. Only a month until she could hold her baby in her arms.

However, her harmonious quietness was disturbed by a knocking from her door.

"Come in." Olivia had expected it to be a servant. Basilio and Flavia had been extremely generous and provided so much for her. That included her own fleet of servants that would wait on her, every hour of the day, and every day of the week. At first she'd been unused to such frivolities but eventually she had adapted to the luxurious domestic lifestyles that royalty (or in Ferox's case, the Khans) had.

The dancer was more than surprised to see Lon'qu enter through the door.

Inadvertently, she clamped her lips together and stood from her chair.

"Please don't stand on my account." He was as calm and cool as always.

"Oh…o-okay…" She heavily sat herself back down. "Do you need something?"

The myrmidon took several strides forward, until he was standing only a few feet away from where Olivia was sitting. She had her back to him, but she kept her face tilted at angle, and watched him indirectly.

A short silence washed over them as Lon'qu prepared to speak.

"I…I actually want to talk." The myrmidon said. "About us. I understand that it may sound like a strange request, after how long it's been since-"

Olivia muttered something under her breath, but her words danced away from his hearing.

"Uh…what?" The myrmidon said.

The dancer stood abruptly from her chair, but felt her knees knock together when she did so. Due to her pregnant condition, she hadn't been able to practice with a sword or dance in months, and she was physically weaker than she had been in the past. Lon'qu made no effort to assist her.

Once she'd regained her composure, she stood by the chair, one hand still resting on the frame of the furnishing. The dancer looked up at him, immediately averted her gaze again, and addressed him quietly: "I said…I don't want to talk to you."

Lon'qu flinched, and then gave a small cough. "I see."

The dancer simply stared down at her own slightly pink feet. Olivia was unsure of why she was feeling so uncomfortable. Why was he trying to talk to her now? After she'd gotten married, and was settling down with her family? She considered Lon'qu as a part of her past that she didn't particularly want to remember. After all, he had ignored her for over a year.

The fact that they were alone made her feel like they were having a confrontation. Like he'd come to yell at her, shake her, ask her why she'd done something so reckless, such as marrying a man she'd barely known for a month.

She felt like a cornered mouse that had a cat clawing at her tail.

The dancer heard him sigh. "I _need_ to talk with you, Olivia."

Lon'qu watched her, silently. After a few long moments, she took a few steps forward. Her hands were clutched protectively around the bump on her stomach, and she was wearing a light grey maternity dress that skimmed her knees. It was Ylissean in style, and it perfectly accentuated her full, pregnant figure. Her pink hair was untied and free, and her legs were bare and smooth. Instead of making her look frumpy and overweight, her bulging stomach only added to the healthy, rosy glow of her skin.

She took his breath away.

"Stop staring!" Olivia was flustered again.

"Ngh, I'm sorry." Lon'qu let out a long breath. They were only a few feet apart. Olivia was the only women that he'd learnt to be calm around, and he was worried that that would go away after he'd been away from her for so long. Judging by the physical attraction he felt towards her, he assumed that it hadn't. "I haven't spoken to you since the wedding. It's been months."

Still uncomfortable, Olivia kept her face tilted to the ground. "I know."

"Why have you been avoiding me?" He asked.

"W-what?" Olivia felt her fists clench. "You…you were the one that was avoiding _me_!"

Lon'qu flinched.

"Why d-did you…you ignore me after you joined Chrom's army?" She finally looked up. "I wrote you letters. You never replied. We…we didn't speak for an entire _year_, Lon'qu!"

He answered her with silence. Without any warning, her eyes filled with tears.

"I missed you!" Her voice cracked. "I thought…I thought that maybe you were dead!"

"No." To her, his voice seemed even colder than normal. "I was…humiliated."

"_Humiliated?" _The dancer's tone was rising. "By what? By who?"

"Marth." He stated. "I was Basilio's champion for years, I lost one battle and…that's it. Basilio sent me away. I was…blinded by anger."

"Angry enough to ignore me for an entire year?" Olivia wiped a tear away with the back of her hand.

"…Evidently so." The myrmidon confirmed her question. He watched as another teardrop dribbled down her cheek. "Uh…please don't cry. You might upset your, er, baby…"

His heart stopped when she let out a sob.

"You know, as a…as a stupid teenager, I used to think that maybe you loved me, at least a little bit…"

The myrmidon cocked his head to one side, as if he was considering something. "I did love you, Olivia. I mean, I still-"

"If you loved me, then…why did you go away and ignore me?"

Lon'qu paused, and then let out a disgruntled '_hmph_'. "Like I said, I was angry about losing my title."

The dancer couldn't help but feel unsatisfied with his answer. Surely, if he'd really loved her, then he'd at least contact her and write the occasional letter. His silence was the thing that had hurt her most.

The myrmidon was thinking of something completely different.

"On your wedding night, did Chrom realise that you weren't a virgin?"

The next thing the myrmidon knew, he was taking a staggering step backwards as his hand clutched his cheek. His face stung. She'd slapped him. Olivia had raised a hand against him and _slapped_ him.

"Nngh, ow-"

"Oh…oh Gods, Lon'qu, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hit you that hard…" Olivia took a fumbling pace towards him. "Are you okay?!"

When the myrmidon stood up straight, the dancer realised that she was standing just a little bit too close to him. One side of his face was red and sore. She noted that he didn't shy away, even when she was standing right in front of him. Her closeness made her aware of the height difference between them, as she looked up at his sore face. He towered over her. He was a little taller than Chrom, even.

"I am fine." He shook off her assault like it was nothing. "I…I was out of line. I apologise."

Olivia's cheeks reddened to match his. "No, really, I'm sorry, I-I can't believe that I _hit_ you, that's completely unacceptable-"

"Quiet." He ordered, forcefully. He then gave a small cough, slightly embarrassed by the rather commanding tone he'd used. Nevertheless, she stopped dithering. "You remember everything, don't you?"

"W-what do you mean?"

"Everything in Ferox. Before I joined Chrom's army."

Olivia could hardly believe that he was asking her such a question. At one point, Lon'qu had been everything to her.

Their first meeting as two socially-awkward, shy teenagers had blossomed into something that neither of them had expected. It happened gradually. Lon'qu won more battles for Basilio, Olivia danced at more festivals, and it was inevitable that the pair would run into each other more than once. With no-one else to talk to, they spent time together.

The young myrmidon was wary of her because she was female, yet she knew where her boundaries lay. He liked how she never touched him, never sat too close to him, and never absent-mindedly grazed his hand with her own. He trusted her not to make contact with him, and it was a rule that she never broke.

They took walks together. Sometimes they talked about their pasts (although Lon'qu barely mentioned Ke'ri), and occasionally what they wanted to do in the future. They spoke of dreams that seemed naïve to them now: Olivia wanted to be a world-famous performer, despite her horrific stage fright, and Lon'qu wanted to be a legendary swords master. Whenever they parted from each other, it was only for a brief time. They knew that they'd see each other in a few weeks, or perhaps a few months.

Olivia thought it was nice to have someone to look forward to seeing, even though it took her quite a while to get used to his frigid personality. Likewise, Lon'qu found it rather frustrating during conversation when she stammered through every other word. However, they both based their relationship on familiar ground; they were both terrified of certain types of people.

As Lon'qu developed from a boy into a man, he slowly let his defences fall. Femininity was something that he'd detested, but she was always different. There was an odd charm, a certain spark in her that attracted him like a bee to honey. He did small, seemingly-insignificant things. He held her hand when they walked, or he occasionally gave her a rather half-hearted compliment on her appearance or a recent performance she'd done.

First came a kiss, then their first time, and for a while, they had both let themselves wistfully think that one day they might get married.

Before the dancer knew it, they were both adults, and Lon'qu had lost his title as a champion and left for Ylisse. They fell out of contact, and the dancer was left alone.

Olivia tore herself away from her thoughts and shook her head. "Of course I remember. But…it's in the past now." The heavily-pregnant woman took several steps away from him as her heart began to thud. "I…I don't know why you're bringing this up again now, but I'd really appreciate it if-"

With a movement so agile she barely saw it coming, Lon'qu grabbed Olivia's hand and prevented her from moving any further away from him. He felt that soft, small hand in his own and let his own heart pound. He was touching a _woman_.

But not just any woman.

"See? I'm still not afraid of you, Olivia." He said, through gritted teeth. "I just want to you know that…that…"

The myrmidon paused and pulled away his hand. For the first time in a few long years, the dancer saw an embarrassed blush creep up his face.

"I've hurt you, and for that, I am sorry. But I cannot deny my own feelings for any longer. Olivia, I'm still in love with you-"

"Please don't say it." She begged. "I'm happy now. I have a husband who loves me, and a baby coming and I really, _really_ can't deal with this right now, Lon'qu."

The myrmidon took this rejection sorely, but he was persistent. "I came with you on this trip to Ferox only for this purpose. It is my own fault, but…" Lon'qu changed his stance, and looked away from her. "I missed you too. And I regret that I was not there to take our relationship any further."

Olivia frowned, and turned away from him. She rested her clammy hands on the cool windowsill opposite her bed and stared outside. Heavy snowflakes were now drifting down in showers. "Why…why are you telling me this now?"

He watched her pregnant form shift uncomfortably in front of him.

"I…I don't usually speak so bluntly, at least not as bluntly as you, but…"

She bit her lip and felt herself sweat a little more.

"You're being selfish."

A concealed, dark part of her wanted to believe that he'd lash out at her, shout at her, so she could tell Chrom and get him expelled from the Shepherds. It was an ugly thought that she regretted soon after, but it was there, just for a second.

"I know." The myrmidon said, resignedly. "But I needed to tell you that. And I'm in love with you, Olivia…don't make me say it twice."

With that, Lon'qu turned around and took several brisk paces towards the door. His matter-of-fact acceptance hurt the dancer a little; she'd expected him to be outraged with her accusation of him being selfish. He never failed to surprise her. As usual, he'd buried himself within that icy exterior.

She didn't understand how he could say that to her after they'd been separated for over a year – and it was _his fault_. Confusion swirled in her mind.

"A-ah, wait, Lon'qu!" Olivia called out to him, and spun herself away from the windowsill. "I'm really, really sorry!"

The dancer turned around too rapidly, too eagerly, and her foot hooked dangerously under one of the legs of the chair that she had been sitting on moments earlier. That frightful rush of adrenaline was the only thing that told her that she was falling. The myrmidon was renowned for being swift, and he darted forward quickly as her expression changed from unsettled to completely terrified.

"Careful!" He hissed, as he managed to press her soft body against his own and set her up straight. He fixed his hands against her shoulders and managed to help her regain her footing.

Olivia looked up at him as her hands shook. Gasping in surprise, she squeaked out her thanks. "Oh…I'm sorry, thank you for catching me, that really could have ended very badly…"

Before removing his hands from her, their eyes met again. For the first time, he remembered how her eyes were actually a deep pink, a slightly darker hue to her hair. One quick glance to the shut door told him that they probably weren't being spied on.

This was his only chance.

He leant down and kissed her. For a split second, she kissed him back. They both moved their bodies forward, and he could feel her swollen stomach press against his abdomen, her breasts ghost against his lower chest.

It was over far too quickly.

She pulled her body away, dazed and slightly shocked. "No…I'm really sorry, but we can't…"

"I understand." He said.

"We…we can't do this again, Lon'qu. If Chrom ever found out, I don't know what he'd do…" Olivia began to wring her hands, and her pretty face still hosted a bright blush.

"No hard feelings…right?" Lon'qu said, lowly. When the soon-to-be mother said nothing, he made his way towards the door. "See you around."

One slam of the door and he was gone.

Olivia sat down on the crisply-made sheets of her bed, her mind racing, and she brought her trembling hands up to her face. Despite wanting to push him away and settle down with Chrom, Lon'qu's visit told her that there was still a part of her that had feelings for her first love.

Two weeks later, Lucina was born.

* * *

...

Once all of the preparations for the trip to Plegia from Ferox had been made, Chrom took it upon himself to address his army.

"I have an announcement to make." The lord said, and immediately everyone in the noisy feast hall grew silent to let their leader speak. "We leave for Plegia tomorrow. Carrion Isle, specifically, so we can make arrangements with Plegia about counter-attacking Valm."

With this, the long wooden table the Shepherds were sitting at burst into a buzz of conversation.

Robin sat at the lord's side, as usual. It was the first time the Shepherds had been together since he had confessed to Chrom, and the whole situation had left him feeling light-headed and dithery. He was trying to hold himself together, but he could still hardly believe that what had happened was _real_. Tharja was surveying the tactician with observational glances. To her, he didn't particularly out of the ordinary.

"It should take us two days, three days at the most to reach Carrion Isle if we leave at the break of dawn tomorrow." Chrom continued to speak. "That includes the short journey we'll have to make by sea once we're in Plegia. I suggest that everyone should go and pack up and valuables now, and then leave those in the breakfast hall that we used this morning so they can be safely stored in the…"

Chrom continued listing out orders for the preparations for the journey. Olivia and Lon'qu were sat opposite each other at the table, and they both unwittingly looked up at each other at the same time.

They shared a tiny, almost unnoticeable smile before pulling their gazes away from one another.

Unlike Robin and Chrom, they hadn't been found out...yet.

* * *

**...**

**I hope I didn't let the characters stray too far from their 'canon' appearances in the game in this chapter. xP Since the last three chapters or so have been devoid of pretty much any Lon'qu x Olivia, I felt it was only fair to give them some spotlight here. **

**As always, thank you for the reviews and such, and thanks for reading!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Warning: This chapter contains yaoi and het. **

**...**

* * *

A distant rumble of thunder was Lon'qu's alarm clock, and he awoke with a faint jolt. Even within the tent, he could detect the aroma of lush, wet grass and could hear the drum of raindrops on the makeshift tent's roof. Two days had passed since they'd left Ferox, and they were nearing the Plegian border. The journey had taken longer than they'd expected.

He let out a sigh and buried his face into the closest blanket he could find. It was probably around five or six in the morning, he told himself. Enough time to sleep for another hour or two.

"Nngh…Lon'qu…" he heard a soft voice moan out his name. "Why do you always hog the sheets?"

The myrmidon sprang from the bed. It was a woman's voice. _Definitely_ a woman's voice. What sort of female would sneak into his room whilst he slept and then accuse him of _hogging blankets_? Still half-asleep, he stumbled onto his feet and grabbed his killing edge that was leant against the bed.

"H-hey, wait, it's just me…" Something pink clouded his vision, and a very drowsy Lon'qu rubbed his eyes with a clenched fist to clear his vision.

"…Olivia?" He carelessly dropped the sheathed sword in his hand and sat down on the bed. One quick look around the tent told him that it wasn't his; he'd fallen asleep in Olivia's.

Another glance told him that he was shirtless.

"I wish I could wake up to you every day, Lonny…" Olivia grabbed his arm and nestled her face against the bulging muscles, a dopy smile on her face.

"Lonny?!" The myrmidon hissed. "Don't call me that."

The dancer pulled herself upright into a sitting position, and her lover noticed that she was wearing _his_ clothes. Namely, the long, Chon'sin-style robe that he never seemed to take off. The red sash that he usually tied around his waist had instead been tied into a flamboyant bow that circled her hips. "I think it's a cute alternative."

"Why are you wearing that?" He asked, as she shifted her weight to lean against him.

"Don't you remember?" The dancer let out a gentle chuckle. "I said I was cold last night, so you took it off and let me wear it." Olivia wriggled a little, as if she was trying to prove a point. "It's far too long, but very warm."

"Hmph." Lon'qu's mouth was set into a hard line. Blurred memories of the previous night were slowly coming back to him. He remembered all of the Shepherds sitting around a large, roaring campfire, drinking mead that Basilio and Flavia had given them. Robin had cancelled training that evening to give the group a bit of relaxation, since they'd spent the entire day travelling.

Memories were shrouded and hazy. He was unsure why his thoughts were so clouded – was it because he was tired? He didn't drink, so too much mead was out of the question—

"You lost your temper with Vaike after he called you a lightweight potato peeler." Olivia murmured.

"L-lightweight?" The myrmidon spluttered, as his cold exterior dropped for a few seconds. "What did he mean, _lightweight_?"

The dancer looked thoughtful for a few seconds, and lazily slunk closer to her partner. A small peck was planted onto his nose as she nestled against him in her favourite position; straddling his lap, her arms locked around his neck, their chests pressed together. She lowered her voice until it was a whisper, in an action that the myrmidon found rather seductive. "You drank one cup of mead and got drunk."

"I…I what?" Disbelief shook the myrmidon. "Impossible. I don't drink, and I don't even feel any aftereffects of inebriation…"

Olivia gave a tiny shrug of her shoulders. "I just remember you…slurring a little and getting irritable with Vaike. Although he was goading you…"

Lon'qu regarded Vaike as a rather arrogant man who had far too much self-esteem, but he didn't dislike him. He gritted his teeth, and pushed the axe-wielder to the back of his mind.

Very slightly, very slowly, almost unnoticeably, Olivia was gyrating against him. Her soft warmth moved in tiny circles against his crotch, which stimulated a heat that only Olivia could summon from him.

"Uh…last night…did we..?" He couldn't quite remember whether they'd indulged in each other last night. His speech was stilted, partly from embarrassment and partly from the mounting arousal he felt from her touch.

The dancer smiled. Her fingers ran across his collar bone in soothing action, as she traced the defined muscles on his arms all the way down to his chest. She noticed tiny remnants of scratches on his shoulders where she'd marked him during their session of lovemaking from several days ago at the Feroxi castle. Although her timid nature gave the impression that she was probably a shy, submissive lover, in the bedroom she was anything but.

Chrom had slept in Robin's room both of the nights that the Shepherds had stayed in Ferox, and the two lovers had taken advantage of his absence. "No. We didn't."

The robe Olivia wore parted slightly as their lips connected, and the swell of her breasts became more exposed. The dancer felt herself tingle as the kiss grew evermore dominant, as he demanded more contact from her. He grasped her hands with a forcefulness that made her feel weak and pressed them against his chest.

"We're going to do this now?" His low voice ignited a spark within her. "It won't be long until the others wake up. We must be quick."

"Ah, okay…" Her delicate fingers fumbled around the buckle of his belt as he ran a hand through her soft tress of hair. The blossom-hued strands brushed her hips when it was untied, and the aura that made her glow seemed to intensify as she brushed a lock behind her ear. She could feel, almost taste the heat that radiated from her lover and she was hungry for more.

His own hands were busy as moved to untie the large crimson bow on her hips. Once the sash was undone, the entire robe tumbled open, revealing her bare body underneath. Her breasts were a size that Lon'qu would have described as 'ample', and her figure was a voluptuous delight.

The myrmidon gasped as he felt the dancer trace his length when it was released from its rather tight confinements. A delicate hand clenched into a fist and slowly began to slide up and down the engorging shaft with experienced strokes. In return, Lon'qu moved his head closer to her chest. He was magnetized to those soft, large mounds. He looked at them, savouring the anticipation for several seconds before leaning in and taking a hardened pink nub into his mouth.

She cried out at the contact, her hand still moving fluidly. A gratuitous lick with given to one pink nub as he left it and moved to the other. Her other breast was attended to as pleasurably as the first. Once she removed her hand, Lon'qu gripped those smooth, spread thighs. She raised herself slightly, fingernails grasping onto his shoulders as she prepared for what was to come. With a lick of her pink lips, the dancer positioned herself above his throbbing member.

He ached to feel that warmth surround him, he _needed _that touch, but a sudden thought made him push her away. "No. I'm sorry, but we cannot."

The dancer's jaw dropped, and a look of indignant hurt flashed across her face. "Why not?"

"I…I forgot to buy more pills in Ferox." Annoyance lined his voice, as he wanted nothing more than to ravish the beautiful woman in front of him. "I am not taking any chances."

These 'pills' were derived from a blend of herbs that were dried and then grounded down into a powdered form, before they were treated by healers and formed into a tablet. They effectively prevented men from impregnating women, and Lon'qu had grown accustomed to taking a pill or two every other day. Unfortunately, the rates of succession weren't guaranteed, but it had worked so far. Olivia getting pregnant was a consequence that he just couldn't live with.

Would Chrom raise the child as his own son or daughter, or guess that the baby was not his own? If he did guess, how would the king react to his wife having a bastard child? Would he guess who the real father was?

These questions were all possibilities that the myrmidon had mulled over in his head. It was impossible for him and Olivia to ever have a family, and that disheartened him. It would have been nice to have a child together – maybe a son, with a nature as serious as his own, or a daughter who was as talented in the arts as her mother was.

The rain rose from a gentle drizzle into a roar as it beat against the material walls of the tent. Thunder shook the dripping air, closer this time.

"You forgot?" Olivia was visibly disappointed, but she continued to purr out irresistible words. "But you can't leave me in this state…"

Gliding his hands to her hips, the myrmidon kissed his lover again. He could scent an aromatic musk, and the air around them grew significantly more heated. Hot, almost stifling. She was right. No man in his right mind with a healthy sexual appetite could leave her like this.

"We can do other things instead…" he replied heatedly, as he ran strong fingers up the curves of her toned abdomen. "For the next hour, I am yours. I'll do whatever you wish."

...

* * *

...

Every crash of thunder made Robin jerk a little, and occasionally lose his page in the heavy book he was reading. Each page was creased, as was the plain, leather-bound front cover and the text was overly-elaborate and hardly legible. If it had been any other book, he probably would have abandoned it in search of a better one, but the subject it detailed was one that the tactician was desperately curious about. It was only by chance that he found it. He'd spotted it in a crowded marketplace that the Shepherds had travelled through the day before.

He was in Chrom's tent, curled up under Chrom's sheets, wearing only a plain pair of loose-fitting brown trousers. Still snoozing, the lord was asleep next him. Sleeping in such a close proximity to his comrade had taught Robin quite a few things; most noticeably, Chrom was a rampant sleep-talker.

He'd mumble about whatever was on his mind, whether it was grumbling about how he should spend more time training or what he should cook when it was his turn on the meal rotary.

"Ah…Robin, where did you put my glove again..?" The lord was under the wraps of slumber as he spoke, and his comrade knew it. With a shimmy of his body that the tactician found rather adorable, Chrom turned over in bed and pushed himself into Robin's body. A strong arm reached over and clasped over the tactician's chest. Tightly.

"Er…Chrom..?" Robin grunted and attempted to shuffle out of the lord's tight grasp. He still had the book clutched in his hands. "Chrom, let go!"

The lord's naked torso blanketed Robin's equally bare back. As if he could hear his comrade's protests and was mocking him, Chrom tightened his hold.

"Nngh…Chrom, wake up!" The tactician knew that his commander was strong – both physically and mentally – but this strength made him feel _vulnerable_. It was something that excited the tactician and also, undoubtedly, intimidated him. He was trapped. He couldn't move. Slowly, he let the book fall from his grasp and it landed with a soft bounce onto the bed. The tactician was planning to slide his way down and out of his friend's arms, and hopefully not wake him up in the process.

"What are you reading, Robin?"

The tactician almost jumped out of his skin when he heard Chrom's voice. Before he could stop him, the lord released his comrade, sat up and snatched the marred book. Yawning as he shed the throes of sleep, he flicked to the first page.

Lunging forward, Robin knocked all of his weight into Chrom's right arm. The book was dropped once again onto the bed and two pairs of hands frantically scrabbled for it.

"Don't look at it!" The tactician squeaked furiously. "Leave it!"

"You've been hiding this book from me, haven't you?" Chrom replied, a tired but playful smile on his face. "I saw you put it in your bag earlier when you thought I wasn't looking, and now you're reading it bed while I sleep…"

The tactician shook his head furiously. Triumphantly, Chrom secured his hold on the book. He held it at arm's length away from the flustered tactician, and opened it to the first page again with a deft flick of his thumb.

They both reddened considerably at the title: _Sodomy, Tribadism and Other Sacrilegious Sins._

After a few moments of an embarrassing silence, the lord tore his eyes away from the book and fixed his gaze on his sheepish-looking comrade. "What is this?"

Mortified, the tactician bit his lip and turned away. "It's…I was just curious…"

"Curious?" Chrom prompted, when the blushing tactician left his sentence unfinished.

Robin said nothing.

The lord's face broke into a mischievous smile. "Well, so am I. It's a little early to be reading, and I have a headache, but…"

The tactician gulped when he saw his friend began to finger his way through the book, scanning each page. "Too much mead last night..?"

"Right." Chrom said, with a definitive nod. "Oh, look, there's diagrams…"

Robin inched closer and slapped a hand over a diagram of two men copulating in the book. "Don't look!"

The lord gave out a breathy laugh and flapped away his friend's hand. "I'm a grown man, Robin. I think I can handle it." His light-heartedness transformed rather quickly into a puzzled frown. "Wait, where is that man…the man on top…where is he putting _it_ in?"

The question was greeted by an awkward silence. Robin eventually managed to muster up an answer through a bout of quick-thinking. Was Chrom going to find this disgusting? The tactician had already come to terms with the idea of anal sex, but the lord seemed so _innocent_. "He's…ah, he's inserting it anally."

Whiteness froze them for the shortest of seconds as a brutal flash of lightning exploded overhead.

"_That's _how men do it?" The lord rubbed his temple with one finger. "Well, I suppose it makes sense…"

It makes _sense?_ The tactician couldn't disagree more. At first, the idea had horrified him as well as piqued his curiosity. He was only just getting used to the idea of having a phallus inserted into a rather private area that wasn't usually equipped to dealing with such large objects. Yet Chrom was just sitting there, taking everything in his stride.

"So, one person acts as the woman and receives?" Chrom was still talking by the time Robin had pulled himself away from his thoughts.

"That's an interesting interpretation, I suppose…" the tactician dazedly replied. "I never thought about it that way…"

"This may sound rather crude, but…would putting it in a man feel the same as putting it in a woman?"

"I've never done it, so how am I supposed to know?" The tactician pursed his lips together. Wait a minute. If Chrom was asking questions…if he wasn't completely repulsed by the idea…did that mean that he was _considering _it?

The lord also had many thoughts running through his head. Some were rather arousing indeed. He took a glance at his comrade, who looked rather ashamed of himself. He was sat barely inches away, with his knees pulled up to his chest in a defensive position.

They'd stayed up late every night since Robin confessed to Chrom. A slow, sensual process had developed; both were quick to learn which spots were sensitive to each other. Kissing and sucking were two actions that both of the men enjoyed immensely. Their virginal approach to intimacy hadn't been hindered much by their inexperience – their eagerness more than made up for it.

Whether it was because they were both young, testosterone-fuelled men or merely because they were attracted to one another, they indulged whenever they had a spare moment alone. Chrom still had a problem, occasionally, with 'getting it up', as they both referred to it. Relaxing was usually the key to solving that particular problem.

And then there was Olivia…still, Chrom ignored her. Pushed her to the back of his head; out of mind, out of sight. The guilt should have been eating him alive…but for some reason, it wasn't.

With a muffled groan, Robin felt his lips part wider as his commander gripped his upper arms and kissed him. Their jaws moved heatedly as the white-haired tactician sank onto the bed. His comrade knelt over him, a knee either side of his slim hips.

Fingers wound through blue strands of hair as Robin pulled Chrom down on top of him, pulling him closer. Embedded in passion, the pair ignored the growing storm outside. Their chests made contact and skin met skin.

They both felt themselves harden. Robin moved down to that strong jawline, kissed along it before planting a soft bite on the smooth skin of his comrade's neck. The tactician was still grossly inexperienced, but lots of guidance from Chrom had improved his skills considerably.

"I…I don't think I'm ready for what we read in the book…" Robin moaned, as the lord traced a teasing hand down to the growing bulge in his trousers.

"No, me neither." Chrom said. Tantalisingly, he slowly began to unbutton his comrade. "How long do you think we have until everyone else wakes up?"

"Oh…ah…" The tactician whimpered as he felt a hand pull his aching length from its fabric restriction. "A-about an hour? Enough time for some time together, before anyone else wakes up…"

"Good." The lord replied shortly. He lowered his face to that hard stomach and began to kiss a gentle trail downwards.

* * *

**...**

**Thanks for reading!**


	10. Chapter 10

Robin didn't really know what he was expecting from Carrion Isle, but Frederick's apprehensiveness towards to place didn't improve his mood.

At least the day was behind them, he thought. The lust-filled hour he'd spent with Chrom in the tent that morning seemed so far away due to the arduous journey. To make things worse, they were on a boat; as the choppy waves rolled beneath him, he began to feel extremely seasick.

Bandits had managed to ruin the day for him. He'd planned out a route that _should _have been perfect; scenic, devoid of Plegian deserts, dotted with small villages or market towns and away from any areas that were notorious for brigands.

The first problem was the rain. Storm clouds had alleviated into simple rain clouds, which transformed roads that should have been dry and dusty into mud-pasted beaten paths. The mounts' hooves sunk into the squelching earth, which caused them to panic. The pegasi and Minerva (Cherche's – a new addition to the Shepherds – wyvern) had no problems with the terrain, but everybody else did.

Everyone was sodden by midday. Fabric hooded cloaks did nothing to protect them from the steady torrent of raindrops that continued to fall. The tactician suspected that a lot of people would have colds, but he couldn't possibly stop to take shelter. He'd already postponed their visit to Carrion Isle _twice_ due to delays, and Plegia wasn't going to wait forever.

Another problem was (and he hated to call her one) Tharja. Before he'd even had time to question _why _she was sitting on his mount, the dark mage had pulled him up onto the horse with a strength he didn't know she possessed. He didn't really mind, not in the slightest, since he wasn't going to ride with anyone else.

The voodoo doll she had clenched in her hand the entire time unnerved him. The crocheted purple robe, the white woolly hair, the shiny black button eyes…was it modelled after _him_? Robin didn't want to ask.

And lastly, an event that seemed to be a finale to a rather poor day: the bandits.

The only warning they received was Olivia being knocked off her horse. She was one of the few riding alone, at the rear of the group; Panne (in taguel form) to her right, and Gregor and Lon'qu (sharing a mount, much to the myrmidon's blatant dismay) in front.

Robin was snatched away from his thoughts when he felt a gloved hand nudge his arm.

"Robin." Frederick said, as he watch the tactician turn a little bit greener. "Not a seaman, I suppose?"

Knuckles turned white as Robin clutched the railings of the deck and offered Frederick a shaky smile. "I'm afraid it's my first time on a boat. At least…I assume it is."

The knight looked over the churning ocean, the light sea air ruffling his brown hair, as Carrion Isle finally became a dim speck in the horizon. "Not far to go now, at least. Can you manage?"

"I'm sure I'll be fine." Robin replied, as he cast his gaze to the soapy wake the vessel was leaving behind it. Some Shepherds had found the rocking of the vessel to be rather gentle, and in some cases, sleep-inducing (the tactician had seen both Donnel and Nowi asleep under the deck, her head against his chest). Robin found it all rather sickening.

Several moments of a comfortable silence passed and Frederick left, murmuring something about finding Lissa. The tactician let out a long exhale as he forced bile down his throat. At least, now, he had a moment to think.

He had a duty to Chrom's army to keep them all safe, and so far that job had been fulfilled in its entirety. Nobody had died. Yet.

Quite a few of the Shepherds had also been getting married, which made his duty feel even weightier. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if someone's spouse died. Gaius and Sumia, Lissa and Frederick, Cordelia and Stahl, to name a few.

And now an even bigger threat loomed in front of them: Valm. Honestly, if Chrom hadn't been at Robin's side, he probably would have cracked under the pressure. If Plegia met their requests, then another journey by boat was imminent, which meant that he'd probably get even sicker…

"Are you alright, Robin?" Chrom ascended from the stairs that led down under the deck and approached his friend. "Frederick told me you were feeling ill."

Just Chrom being there made him feel better. The tactician still leant against the railing, but tilted his head to face his comrade. "Seasick and tired, but we'll be there soon."

"Optimistic." Chrom commented, as he settled by the tactician. "Please don't push yourself too hard, Robin."

Surprised, the tactician met Chrom's eyes. His eyes that always seemed to be so bright, that yearned for mutual understanding and trust, seemed dull, almost lifeless. "I should being saying the same thing to you."

Tipping his head backwards, closing his eyes, Chrom let out a long sigh. "I'm fine. I have you."

Pleasant heat rushed to the tactician's face when he heard that, although it was coupled with nausea. He quickly changed the subject, at a loss as to how to reply with anything that sounded romantic. "How's Olivia?"

The lord's face visibly stiffened at the mention of her name. "Resting, I hear. I haven't gone to see her. Did I tell you what Lon'qu said when he brought Olivia to me during the incident with the bandits?"

The tactician shook his head slowly. "No. We haven't really had time to talk since."

"That's true." Chrom shook his head dismissively when he recalled Lon'qu's words. "He told me I should treat Olivia like a wife."

Robin frowned and stood up a little straighter, as the lord folded his arms. "What…what did he mean by that?"

The lord shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe some other people have picked up on the fact that I and Olivia don't really acknowledge one another anymore."

"Then…why would he _care_?" Robin asked, puzzled.

Chrom shook his head. "I have no idea. And he carried Olivia over his shoulder without even becoming anxious that she was a woman."

"I hear that he can suppress his phobia when in combat." Robin murmured.

"I see." Unsatisfied, the lord clenched his jaw.

The confrontation _had _been odd. The only other occasion Chrom had ever interacted with Lon'qu was several weeks before, when they'd gone in search of the assailant that had fired thunder magic at Robin in the hot springs.

That event, too, had ended up with Chrom becoming injured after Lon'qu seemingly lost his nerve and ended up dislocating the lord's shoulder.

Biting his lip anxiously, the lord ran the events over in his mind. There was certainly something different about Lon'qu.

With another subject to add to Robin's list of worries, the tactician suddenly felt quite ill. His abdomen tensed as he felt bile rise in his throat, his eyes squeezed shut as the choppy ocean got the better of him. He spent the next few minutes vomiting over the side of the boat. Chrom's hands grasped his upper arms the entire time as his back heaved.

...

* * *

Lon'qu _hated _travelling by sea. It brought back too many painful memories.

It had been over ten years since he'd travelled from Chon'sin to Regna Ferox as a child, but the memories still haunted him. The never-ending rocking of the ocean; the cramped, yet oddly moist wood that acted as walls; the unmistakeable stench of people crammed together in a tiny space.

The myrmidon was in a foul mood.

Their journey had affected him like it had affected everyone else: he was cold, still damp, and injured from the bandits. Blood stained his robe – the robe Olivia had been wearing only that morning. Now, she was asleep in another chamber of the boat, as she had passed out during the run-in with the brigands.

In hindsight, she'd been exposed. Weaponless, even, as Olivia danced more than she fought. An easy target. Lon'qu only wished he could have taken better care of her:

She had been riding at the rear on the group, on her own mount. A small, white mare that she didn't usually have any problems with during marches, due to its sweet nature. That's why he knew something was wrong when Olivia fell off.

An arrow had been shot right into the horse's calf, and it had reacted like any normal animal would – with panic and fear. The horse had brutally bucked its legs backwards, and the dancer only just managed to slide out of the way. Another arrow caused the animal to squeal in pain.

It was too much for Panne, who could understand the animal's plight. In her taguel form, she bounded over Olivia, who had been discarded into the sticky mud, and sheltered the horse from any further harm.

The rest of the group had caught wind of the attack by now, but no-one dismounted to help Olivia. They were distracted by a new threat.

Several brigands emerged from the trees. An ambush. Commands from Robin were shouted out and rain began to crash down. _Now_ they dismounted, but Lon'qu's eyes were fixed on his lover.

Wet earth stuck to her clothes. The pale pink of her clothing had been spattered by castaneous mud, and it even clung to strands of her hair. There was a tear gliding down her cheek, as her face reddened, humiliated. She'd felt everyone's eyes on her when she fell. How _embarrassing. _She wanted the earth to swallow her up.

Swords unsheathed as the battle began, the pages of tomes grew damp because of the weather. Lon'qu was the only one left on a mount, he realised, and he quickly hopped off the horse. The sheath of his sword knocked reassuringly against his thigh as he scrambled forwards.

Olivia's hands fumbled as she tried to regain her footing. Any dignity she had was long gone. Delicate fingers curled uselessly into the mud as she tried to raise herself from the ground.

The myrmidon's boots sank into the mud as he tried to make his way towards Olivia.

An archer stood a safe distance away from her, his bow poised, arrow glinting.

Two arrows pierced Olivia's exposed right thigh in quick succession, puncturing the fair skin and causing blood to flood to the surface. Inhaling a lungful of air, more tears began to shine at the corners of her eyes as pain ran through her. This was utterly pathetic.

She was _useless_. Even her own husband wasn't trying to save her.

The dancer raised her head, eyelashes spiked with tears. The archer had his bow raised again, positioned for the kill. One well-aimed arrow would be enough to finish her off, if it hit in the right place. Without any mercy, he aimed for her face, and pulled the string of the bow back with skilful fingers.

Nerves braced, fingers clutched the oozing mud, her hair trailed in the earth; Olivia waited for the arrow that would never come.

"Nngh!" Lon'qu let out a grunt as the arrow meant for Olivia shot into his shoulder. A clenched fist pulled the weapon out of his flesh, followed by a spurt of blood. He lunged forward with a ferocity that could only be found when he was truly rage-induced; the archer's life was over with one swift blow of Lon'qu's sword.

Turning on his heel, the myrmidon sped back to his injured lover. Without any warning, he gripped both of the arrows in her thigh with one hand and yanked them out.

"Ouch! Ow!" Olivia cried out, as her wrists were grabbed and she was pulled out from the mud. "…You're hurting me!"

"I apologise." He replied, as she steadied herself onto her feet. She wobbled, with blood seeping down one leg. The wounds didn't look too deep, but Lon'qu was no troubadour. A healer would have to check her over later. "But I need to do this."

In one swift movement, the myrmidon picked up Olivia and threw her over his uninjured shoulder. He winced as his own injury stung.

"Ah, no! My leg!" She let out a muffled sob as she dangled off his body. "Please! It hurts!"

"Please bear with me." He said, as he readjusted his grip on his sword and began to move forward. "If you die…I'll kill you."

Olivia blinked.

Several metres away, Chrom had just finished off a brigand who had been wielding a steel axe. The foe weren't incredibly strong – more like a nuisance, really – and he turned around to seek out his next opponent.

What he saw was much more surprising.

Lon'qu was touching a woman. Not any woman – his _wife. _The myrmidon's expression was stormy, and fixed on Chrom himself. The lord almost wanted to shrink under his gaze, but of course he wasn't going to do _that_.

Instead, he approached him.

"Look after your wife." Lon'qu snapped imperatively, as he thrust Olivia into Chrom's arms. His tone was unsettling, angry. "She could've died."

Olivia, unable to support herself, leant weakly against her husband.

Chrom, displeased with the myrmidon's aggressive tone, replied with a response that rather childish. "And why do you care? Olivia isn't your wife."

"Right." Lon'qu glowered. "She's yours. Treat her like one."

Before Chrom could even muster a reply, Lon'qu was gone. Indignant fury shook the lord as he grit his teeth. Who did that myrmidon think he was talking to? His marriage was none of Lon'qu's _concern_.

He looked down at his wife. She'd passed out in a man's arms, and not for the first time.

...

* * *

Gentle swaying motions derived from the sea had eventually coaxed Olivia into a fitful sleep. Her right thigh had been healed and bound by bandages.

After several hours of resting, eyelids gently fluttered open, and pink irises settled onto an unfamiliar ceiling. She wasn't in a tent, or even in a castle…the creaking wooden ceiling was one usually found in boats.

Oh no…how long had she been sleeping for?

"Finally awake, are we?" Maribelle said, as she snapped the small book she had been reading shut. "It's been a good few hours, my dear. Feeling better?"

As her recollection of the battle from earlier slowly came back to her, Olivia brought a shaking hand to her forehead and sighed shakily. "N-no. Not really."

Maribelle rose to her feet and grabbed a frilly parasol that had been leaning against the chair she was sitting in. "I understand. This boat is simply frightful, isn't it? It probably hasn't been upholstered in years. I mean, maybe a working girl such as yourself is used to these sorts of conditions, but _I_ have _never _been submitted to such squalor-"

"_Olivia isn't your wife."_

"_Treat her like one."_

Olivia let out a groan. Why was Lon'qu so hopelessly blunt? _Why _had he provoked Chrom?

"Oh, and I'll warn you before I go," Maribelle was at the door, as she appeared to be leaving, "several of the others are in terrible moods. I don't know whether it was the battle, or the mead last night-"

"Who?" Olivia asked, her heart hammering.

"There's quite a list. Vaike – he's dreadfully downcast, no doubt due to all of that mead he was drinking last night – and Chrom, Robin – he's seasick, I hear – and Libra, because he sliced his staff in half with his axe. Cordelia's on the war path because some brute threw mud at her pegasus earlier. And Lon'qu, too. Although if you ask _me_, he always looks rather disgruntled."

The troubadour left swiftly, with a warning that they'd be arriving at Carrion Isle soon.

A lone iron sword had been left for the dancer, still in its sheath. Chrom had insisted that everyone should be armed as much as possible in case the new Plegian leader did anything untoward.

Quite frankly, Olivia was sick of feeling like a weakling.

* * *

**...**

**It's looking pretty doubtful that I'll be able to update next week (or the week after that), so this might be the last chapter for a while. ****Thanks for reading! **


	11. Chapter 11

A long exhale escaped through Robin's slightly parted lips as he, Frederick and Chrom stood in what was supposed to be the 'throne room' of Carrion Isle's only castle.

Cracked stone pillars were the only supports to the ceiling, and they flanked a long, faded crimson carpet. Gloom stuck to the corners of the room, intensifying the darkness, as shadows danced to the flickers of the scarce amount of candles positioned on unstable shelves. Flailing strands of dust and cobwebs moved without any external influence, barely visible from the walls from which they hung.

It appeared that their hosts hadn't made any effort to make the room even slightly appealing. Or maybe it was just Plegian – it hadn't taken Robin long to notice that the fashion in Ylisse's rival nation was rather dark; gothic, almost.

Without any prior warning, the large doors that acted as an entrance slowly swung open at the far end of the room. Frederick looked to his master for orders, but the lord shook his head. Chrom moved to stand in front of both of his comrades.

The tactician clenched and unclenched his fists nervously. After a long journey and a repugnant bout of seasickness, he was noticeably fatigued. He wanted nothing more than to finish the political business with Plegia, to find a quiet spot to set up camp and then go straight to sleep, preferably with Chrom by his side.

From the door emerged a woman the trio immediately recognised: Aversa. The Plegian's gait was unhurried, relaxed. She simply took her time approaching the three men, and she appeared to be unarmed.

"Good day, milord," Aversa slowed to a halt several paces away, her gaze flitting from Chrom to his tactician. Dark eyes eventually rested on Ylisse's leader, and she spoke solely to him. "Plegia welcomes you."

Robin saw the surprise flash briefly across Chrom's face as he recalled Aversa's role from the incident that took place two years ago. The woman had played a key role as one of the Mad-King's most loyal servants, and that fact was well remembered by Chrom.

Aversa had contributed to the events that concluded in his sister's death. Her _suicide._

His expression hardened as a gloved hand was raised to rest on Falchion's hilt. "Aversa. You serve the new king? This…_Validar?_"

Noting the lacings of contempt as the lord spoke her liege's name, an ominous smile spread across her face. "I do. It appears that fate has designs for me yet."

"They say Validar has ties to Grima." Frederick said, his expression impassive.

"Of course he is Grimleal." Aversa's eyes moved again, from the lord to Robin. For a moment, she paused, observing the tactician. "We are both believers."

Robin wanted to squirm under her glare, and clenched his jaw. The mark of Grima imprinted onto his right hand was hidden by a dark glove, but he still changed his position to place both hands behind his back. The mark was something he was undoubtedly ashamed of; the only clue to what might lie in his past, yet he refused to talk about it to anybody.

Her long look did not go unnoticed by Chrom and Frederick. With a swift motion, the prince even went as far to stand protectively in front of his tactician, albeit a distance away from him.

"My liege says that it is his faith that guided him through Gangrel's passing." Aversa continued, unperturbed. "Although it was a difficult time, he kept order when there may have been chaos. We meant to arrange an official visit to Ylisstol, in time, but-" Her sentence went unfinished and she darted a quick look behind her. "Ah, here comes my master now."

Through the door emerged a tall man, his skin dark, as was his oddly-fashioned hair. Burnished, golden ornaments that seemed to be pieces of jewellery were placed on the sides of his head and onto his ears. His chin was high, and his crimson eyes burned.

"It is an honour to meet you, sire." Validar's voice was low as he spoke. His footsteps echoed around the hall. "I am Validar, king regnant of Plegia. Shall we begin the negotiations?"

...

* * *

Robin didn't know what to think, or what to do.

He lay alone in his bed, his chest rising and falling with every haggard breath that he took. Rolling onto one side, he curled his knees up into his torso, squeezed his eyes shut as he desperately tried to calm himself.

Thoughts pulsed in his mind. He couldn't make them go away.

In a sense…the negotiations with Plegia had gone smoothly. In addition to a fleet of battle-worthy ships, Validar had also pledged to fund the whole campaign to Valm. Politically, it had gone exceedingly well.

But then…

The tactician's stomach lurched as he recalled the events of the meeting.

He and Chrom were _sure _that Validar was the assassin that had made an attempt to end Emmeryn's life several years before. The physical relation that the king bore to the assassin was uncanny, _unbelievable. _

Yet Chrom had slain the assassin with his own sword. He was dead, gone, less than nothing.

Stretching his arms above his head, Robin shuffled his body back onto his back, his eyes now open and staring blankly into the fabric material of the tent above him. Slightly moist fabric clung to his back – the humid Plegian air made him sweat.

He sat up, swiped his forehead with the back of one hand. The hand branded with the mark of Grima.

The _hierophant_. Validar had introduced a young man wearing the exact same coat as him. Heavy and long, with similar golden embellishments snaking up the sleeves and around the hem. His face was obscured by a purple cowl.

Frederick had requested that the hierophant should lower his hood, as that was the Ylissean etiquette that was practiced around royalty.

"_You are a long way from Ylisse, sir…But very well…"_

The tactician remembered how he had recognised the voice that spoke those words, and was momentarily thrown by just _how _familiar that voice was.

"_Is that better?"_

White hair, brown eyes, pale skin. An average height, and a physique of slim build. A reserved expression.

The hierophant was identical to Robin.

Shock ensued. Despite wanting to question his mirror image, Aversa and Validar quickly withdrew their hierophant and remarked that Chrom's army should make their way to Port Ferox as soon as possible.

After that, Robin couldn't face Chrom and Frederick. With no other options, the three men left.

Robin, silent with shock. Frederick, warily listing theories about the hierophant's likeness to their tactician. Chrom, constantly asking his closest friend if he was feeling okay.

Several hours later, a camp had been set up and a fire was cackling. Robin had gone straight to his tent, denying offerings of company or food from the others. Lissa had left a cooked meal for him at one point, which had been left untouched when she came back to collect it an hour later.

Chrom had sat outside Robin's tent until nightfall, occasionally asking his comrade if he needed anything. His queries often went unanswered.

Robin stood from his bed, legs wobbling. He felt the blood in his head seep away as he stood up too quickly, and squinted through the darkness. Moonlight offered a little illumination within the tent, but not much.

His armour had been carelessly discarded around the tent, and his coat was sprawled over a trunkful of books. It was the first night in several weeks that he and Chrom had slept separately. They'd only been sharing a bed for a short amount of time, but Robin found himself missing the nonsense his comrade spouted in his sleep.

He spent the next few minutes pulling on armour, fully dressing himself. If slumber was so hard to find, maybe he just needed some air. The tent was stiflingly stuffy.

The thought of going to Chrom's tent seemed appealing, but he thought that doing so would be rather pathetic. He was a grown man, and he couldn't help but feel a little ashamed at what he'd done earlier. Ignoring his friends who were just trying to help…an apology was in order.

Still, he needed some fresh air. A short walk would be just the thing to coax sleep to his body. Sheathing a silver sword to his hip, he made his way outside.

Twigs snapped underfoot as Robin walked away from his tent, with no specific direction or location in mind. He moved past several tents, idly eyeing the exteriors. Despite retiring early to his bed, he still knew the locations of who slept where. Gregor's tent was pitched next to Panne's, and Gaius and Sumia had placed theirs several metres to the right of a babbling brook that the Shepherds were using as their water source.

A pang of guilt struck him when he walked past Olivia's tent. When he'd returned from Carrion Isle's castle, he'd seen her and Panne in front of the brook, frantically scrubbing mud out of her clothes. The dancer was obviously exhausted, with dark bags under her eyes. It almost made him feel better that he wasn't the only one having a bad day.

At least it was all over. Tomorrow, they could start the journey back to Port Ferox. They could beat Valm, and protect the Fire Emblem. Hopefully, his skills as a tactician would be enough to keep everyone alive. A tiny amount of pleasant optimism bubbled up inside him, although his headache was beginning to worsen.

When his feet were just beginning to ache, he approached a clearing. It was bare, uninteresting, with tufts of dying grass protruding from the ground and a decaying tree shedding its leaves. He stopped, took in a deep lungful of air…

…_Robin…_

With a jolt, the tactician looked behind him. He could've sworn that someone had just said his name.

"Who's there?" Robin yelled, unsheathing his sword.

_Heed my call, Robin…_

The whole earth seemed to shake underneath him, and Robin unwittingly dropped his weapon as he raised his hands to his temple. His vision blurred as the headache that had been pestering him so persistently all evening began to pound and grind in his skull.

As jolts of pain shot down his spine, a realisation struck him: the voice was _inside _his head.

"Who _are_ you?" Robin gasped, as he felt himself fall to his knees. The pain was unbearable.

An explosion of light in front of him forced him to raise his head. He could see nothing, now – nothing other than Validar, who was standing right in front of him.

"Why do you close your heart to him, Robin?" The Grimleal's voice reverberated through his head, tearing against the sorest parts of his mind. A whimper of pain forced itself out through Robin's lips. "Why have you bound your heart to another?"

"V-Validar…" The tactician gritted his teeth. "My…my head! Get out of my mind!"

The Plegian king moved forward until his tall form towered over the kneeling man in front of him. "You've truly forgotten. And you dare take such a tone…with your own _father?"_

For a moment, the tactician could do nothing. Shock overtook his entire body, the colour from his face draining. Darkness pressed down on his back, forcing the air for his lungs and he gasped harshly. "…What?"

"You are to fulfil a glorious purpose." Validar continued, a glint in his eyes. "No matter what relationship you have with the prince, it is your destiny. The way you have bound yourself to him is abhorrent."

_Did Validar…did Validar know about him and Chrom?_

Robin's next words were a low hiss, raspy and laboured: "Get…get out…"

The idea that this man – associate of the hierophant that bore his face – was his father was far too much to comprehend. He could barely understand what was happening – why was this man in his head? What was he trying to do? Was he trying to _kill_ him?

Robin was sure that this man had made an attempt to end Emmeryn's life. He couldn't stand that; he couldn't be the son of a man who had tried to murder Chrom's sister.

"Your true place is by my side." Validar lowered himself, kneeling by his son. Robin flinched; a menacing, repelling aura seemed to bleed from the king. "You are wasting your time with these doomed servants of Naga."

Validar raised a hand above his son's alabaster hair, as if to ruffle his head. The tactician jerked his head skyward, eyeing the limb warily. The tactician's fingertips dug into his scalp, nails pressing hard enough to draw blood.

Robin was repulsed. Something told him not to touch this man; to get up and _run. _Yet he was frozen into place.

"Give yourself to Grima." His enemy's voice was soft and low, as if it were coaxing a wild beast to take food from a human hand. "Join your strength with the fell dragon."

He could feel Validar come closer.

Those demonic hands were hovering right above his skin.

"Robin!" A new voice yelled his name.

When the confused tactician felt another body kneel beside him and grip his shoulders, he reacted defensively. With a bunched fist, he struck out towards the foreign body, knocking away whoever was trying to touch him. Adrenaline flushed through him, fuelling what little strength he had.

The contact was immediately broken as the stranger fell away.

Leering, Validar rose to his feet and looked down at his son once more. "You're already beginning to rebel against the servants of Naga. In time, you will see the truth."

_Beginning to…rebel?_

"It's just a matter of time." The king said, with one final smirk.

Magic engulfed Robin's father, obscuring his body under a thick sheet of bright light. In a sharp blinding haze of magic, he was gone. And so was the darkness that had separated Robin from the rest of the world.

Dazed, the tactician felt his headache suddenly alleviate. The crushing pressure on his back was gone; instead, there was only a faint zephyr cooling the nape of his neck. Still knelt on the ground, Robin lowered his hands and took in a much-needed breath.

The fresh though humid air was pleasant. Feeling a little replenished, the tactician shuddered to his feet after grabbing the sword that he'd dropped.

"Robin?"

Recognising Chrom's voice, the tactician looked in the direction of his friend.

"Are you alright? I heard shouting." The lord asked. Pink and sore-looking, a mark burned across the lord's right cheek.

Robin's eyes widened. Chrom was _injured._ "I…I think I'm fine. What happened to your cheek?"

As if he had just been reminded of it, the lord pressed several slender fingers to the blemish and winced. "You were disorientated…I think you hit me when you were confused."

"_What?"_ Robin could remember…he did hit someone, although it was in a fit of panic. "I'm sorry, I…"

"You don't have to apologise. It wasn't your fault." The lord said, calmly. "Just tell me what happened."

The tactician grimaced. He'd hit Chrom by mistake, hadn't he? The Plegian king was playing games with his mind. The moment Validar had appeared, he was sucked away from the world he knew. He'd never, _ever _willingly inflict any harm onto somebody he loved, physical or otherwise.

"Validar…Validar spoke to me…in my mind. I'm his…" Robin swallowed, his throat dry. "I'm his son."

The fact itself shamed him so badly that he had to avert his eyes to the ground.

His blue-haired comrade said nothing, and instead cast his eyes out towards the darkness that surrounded the camp. Pale titian embers were slowly diminishing from the fire that burned in the centre of the camp, a fair distance away, and meagre streams of light slowly faded into the gloom. Any slithers of moonlight had already dissipated behind heavy clouds that were sinking in the sky. It would be completely dark soon.

"I see." Chrom finally said, his reply brief. Robin observed his friend cautiously, wary of his reaction. "So, the hierophant could be your twin brother, then."

Robin's confidence was falling faster than a pegasus that had been shot by an arrow. "I…I suppose so. That would explain his…uh, our appearance."

"You are yourself," the lord said suddenly, "Your father doesn't define who you are."

"I don't even want to discover what lies in my past anymore," Robin choked out, finally looking up to meet his comrade's gaze. "…But thank you, Chrom."

Putting into words how sick with worry Robin was seemed impossible; the threat of Valm, his duty as a tactician, cheating with Chrom despite the fact that the lord was a married man, the chance that Validar might know about their relationship…it was too much.

He wanted the strength that Chrom had. He wanted to be confident in his own abilities, to be valiant and heroic.

Instead, he was just an amnesiac with the mark of Grima on his hand.

"Do you want to come and sleep in my tent?" A gloved hand gripped the tactician's own and gave it a soft squeeze. "…I missed you. I was worried about you after we came back to camp."

Embarrassed by his earlier behaviour, Robin weakly nodded. Leading him gently, Chrom slowly began the walk to his tent. The tactician looked terrible, although he probably didn't know it; his white hair was tousled, eyes sunken into his face.

After a few seconds, Robin responded, his voice quiet and apologetic. "I missed you too. I'm sorry I acted selfishly earlier."

Chrom lowered his voice as to not wake the sleeping Shepherds in their tents. "It was a shock."

They reached the lord's tent quickly enough, and began to pull off their armour. The sheets on Chrom's bed were creased – he hadn't been able to sleep much that night, either.

After tossing aside his boots and stripping down to his shirt and trousers, the weary tactician curled up in his commander's bed. He buried his nose into the pillow, inhaling the familiar scent, feeling slightly comforted.

_He looks frail,_ thought Chrom, as he carefully placed Falchion by the bed. Robin hadn't been eating as well lately, and he'd been vomiting on the boat. His stomach must be empty. It was obvious that there was a lot of pressure on him (and Chrom, leader of Ylisse, could certainly sympathise with that).

The lord was determined to take good care of his tactician tomorrow: what he needed was a long, uninterrupted rest, followed by a decent breakfast and maybe some time together; just the two of them.

Taking his place in the bed beside Robin, Chrom pressed his lips to his comrade's pale forehead. A lack of a response told him that he'd already succumbed to slumber.

Gently, as to not disturb the sleeping man next to him, the lord examined the blemish on his face with his fingertips. The blow Robin had dealt him hurt more than he let on.

Chrom was just about to drift off when Frederick had burst in unannounced, his words screaming urgency:

"Milord, please wake up. Risen have surrounded the camp."

* * *

**...**

**It feels like it's been a looong time since I last updated this (only 3 weeks, to be exact). The thing is, updates from now on are going to be a bit more sporadic due to my life off the computer becoming a lot busier.**

**As you can see, I, er, 'borrowed' a lot of verbatim from the cutscenes in the game. I'm split between completely changing the original wording and just rewriting it in my own way, so I...did both. I changed the sequencing and locations a bit, too (like Frederick jumping into the tent instead of charging into the clearing like a rhino). This chapter covered a lot of Chapter 13, which means Lucina should be coming next. Hold onto your hats.**

**Thanks for reading.**


	12. Chapter 12

Thankfully, Robin managed to stay conscious for the duration of the battle that ensued for the rest of the night.

He wasn't stupid enough to thrust himself forward, to force himself to fight; that would only put everyone else at risk. And so the tactician remained by his commander's side.

Daylight was slowly breaking onto the isle by the time the brawl was over. Nevertheless, clouds hung low and cast an almost purple hue over the sky. The majority of the landscape was still embedded in gloom.

Large crags of thick rock bordered either side of a large canyon that the Shepherds had been forced to fight through. The tactician had directed numerous fliers over the crags in order to stem the flow of additional Risen from abandoned forts that scattered the battle field.

The leader of the Risen had been positioned atop a towering fort-like structure, a bridge of sorts. Despite being effectively _dead_ - and, through Robin's reasoning, unable to think - the Risen did seem to understand the patterns of basic warfare strategy.

In fact, they'd even managed to use a new type of weapon: longbows. Luckily, Gaius had managed to snatch one from a fallen Risen so Robin could inspect it further. Virion was eager to get his hands on a new type of bow.

Whilst the others had their wounds healed by the usual group of medics, Robin and Chrom walked slowly northwards, their gaits paced. They'd left under the guise of investigating the large citadel north of the battlefield, but had actually left so Robin could get at least a few minutes of rest.

"Well…that was…unexpected, to say the least." Chrom finally said, after several minutes of a peaceful silence. The lord had several blood stains smeared down his clothing, and his breathing was still laboured.

Completely exhausted, Robin made his way towards a nearby tree, and slid down onto the ground. Chrom followed suit, making his way into the small group of trees. From that distance, the other Shepherds were nothing more than colourful specks.

Rough bark from the tree irritated Robin's skin through his coat, but he found himself simply not caring. Letting his eyelids slide shut, he muttered: "Everything about last night was unexpected."

His mind was still spinning from the thoughts of Validar being his father, and the hierophant _possibly _being his twin brother. His head felt raw from a combination of a lack of sleep and pure trauma.

The tactician heard his friend's footsteps draw closer. "You're tired, Robin. After a meal and some sleep, we can talk about this-"

Chrom's words were well-intended, but Robin felt himself grow irritated. He clenched his fists, yet willed his aching insides to settle. His eyes reopened, bloodshot and afire with weak contempt. "I don't want to talk about it. I'm not fit to stand by you anymore."

Looking down at the fatigued tactician, Chrom felt despair slowly seep into him. To see such a dependable comrade simply fall apart was…unnerving, to say the least. "What makes you says that?"

Burying his head in his hands, Robin took a few seconds to reply. "Everything."

Utterly fed up, he drew his knees to his chest and averted his face from Chrom's gaze. Confusion swallowed him up, and he felt the earth sway underneath him. He was so _tired_.

"You _are _fit to stand by me, Robin." Abruptly, Chrom was on the ground too, his body pressed close against his tactician's. The girth of the tree was wide enough for the lord to also lean against the thick trunk. "Your father doesn't make you who you are. My father…my father wasn't a noble man, either."

Taking in Chrom's words silently, Robin did nothing to acknowledge his friend and simply sat hunched on the mossy undergrowth.

Shuddering with surprise when he felt a hand rest on the top of his head, Robin attempted to shift further away from his commander. A gentle grip bound him by his sleeve and he was forced to sit in the same place.

With his face still turned away, Robin could feel one of Chrom's hands slowly drag through his hair. Wait…was Chrom…_stroking _him?

The motions were soft, although slightly awkward, but the gesture in itself was unbearably sweet.

"Olivia…when Olivia was feeling stressed about Lucina when she was pregnant, she liked me to stroke her hair." Chrom's voice was low as he continued his ministrations. "If it's strange…if you think of me as odd, I'll stop."

Something sharp squeezed hard around Robin's heart when he heard Olivia's name.

The stroking continued.

For the first time in hours, the tactician allowed himself to smile. He raised his head, dark rings visible around his eyes. "It is a bit odd, Chrom."

Retracting his hand, Chrom ruffled his own hair and gave an embarrassed grin. "Right. I apologise."

"There's no need."

Unstiffening and slowly relaxing, Robin slowly uncurled himself from his defensive position and moved to lean against Chrom.

They embraced, intimately huddled together under the heavy bows of the leafy tree. With a sudden thirst for affection – acceptance_ - _the tactician moved his lips to his commander's face, gently kissing along his jawline with lingering pecks.

Seconds passed, and their lips met.

Robin's kiss was hot and needy, pulling Chrom deeper into the embrace, one hand clutching a fistful of his comrade's white cloak. The lord cautiously welcomed the pleasurable affections of the other man, well aware that they were in the midst of a battlefield and potentially in the view of other Shepherds.

"Milord, Risen have been spotted at the-"

Frantically pulling themselves out of the heated embrace, the Chrom and Robin hurriedly slid apart.

It was too late. Frederick stood several metres away, eyes wide with shock. A disapproving frown crossed his face as he eyed the two guilty-looking men in front of him.

He had seen them. Why was his master and the army's chief tactician _kissing_? Not to mention that they were both male. Disgust gripped him.

Balancing himself with a steady hand on the tree trunk, Chrom sprung to his feet, his voice apologetic. "Listen, Frederick, I can explain this."

Running his eyes from Chrom down to the dishevelled tactician still seated on the woodland undergrowth, the knight shook his head resignedly. Although curious, he strived to maintain a level of professionalism. "You do not need to explain your private affairs to me, milord. It is none of my business."

Surprised by Frederick's reaction – or, perhaps, the lack of it – Chrom shot the knight a quizzical look. He set about helping a near-unconscious Robin to his feet, pressing a hand to the small of his back to help him stand.

"You deserve an explanation, Frederick." Robin said abruptly, once he was up. He folded his arms and cast his gaze away, a light crimson spreading across his face.

"Right…" Chrom agreed, albeit hesitantly. Mortified that he'd been caught, he wanted to cower under Frederick's blatantly disapproving glare. "I am sorry that you caught us in such a…compromising situation…"

A dismissive '_hmph'_ from Frederick sent a blush scorching across Chrom's face, too. He felt stupid. He'd been so careless, kissing Robin like that in the middle of a _war zone, _for Naga's sake. Anyone – a_nyone _– could've found them.

In a way, he was relieved that it was just Frederick.

"Robin and I…have a relationship that may be inappropriate for two men," he picked his words carefully. "I am aware that it violates the basic…the basic, er, rules of espousal…"

Frederick fidgeted uncomfortably in place. Their whole relationship was just wrong. Two men couldn't fall in love – it was unnatural for them to do so. The concept of love for men and women was logical in Frederick's mind – it served the purpose of procreation. Men couldn't impregnate men, and women couldn't impregnate women. It didn't make any _sense_.

Of course, airing his opinion would have been overtly callous. His lips pressed into a thin line.

The conversation was undoubtedly awkward for all of them. Chrom managed to turn the entire subject on its head in one sentence: "Did you say something about Risen, Frederick?"

Momentarily distracted, the knight nodded. "Risen were spotted north from here, at the tall bridged citadel. I understand that is where you and…" Frederick offhandedly nodded in Robin's general direction, "…were supposed to be investigating."

The tactician couldn't help but feel a little hurt at Frederick's sudden obvious distaste towards him. After all, it took _two _people to have an affair – if anything, he wasn't the only guilty party.

"That's an emergency. I suppose we should go and make sure the area is safe." Chrom stated, eager for a chance to avoid such an awkward conversation. Sprinting off into the distance was a very appealing thought.

He wasn't cowardly enough to run away.

The three men began to move, picking their way through the trees back towards the large canyon that cracked through the middle of the battlefield. Robin felt himself fall behind as his comrades moved ahead, no doubt in a better condition than he was.

"Can we…can we keep what you just saw between us?" Chrom finally said, his words bordering on a plea. "Please, Frederick?"

Shooting him a sideways glance, Frederick gave a minute nod of his head. The last thing he would ever want to do is tarnish his master's reputation. "Of course, milord. But we have much to discuss."

_Thank Naga it was just Frederick, _Chrom thought, as he huffed out a sigh of relief. If anyone could keep a secret, it was him. The lord mentally prepared himself for a harsh scolding later, but if that's what it took to keep his and Robin's relationship a secret, then it was a consequence that he could tolerate.

If Olivia ever found out…Chrom clenched his jaw, his expression hardened.

No. He'd never let that happen.

...

* * *

It turned out to be just one Risen.

"Olivia, Chrom needs to speak with you," Robin said, returning to camp after another long walk.

Marth had made a sudden appearance, slaying the rogue Risen with a fighting style that was almost identical to Chrom's. She had disembowelled the creature with several deft strikes of her Falchion – how she could wield the blade still alluded Chrom.

She uttered a word that none of them had expected, yet all of them heard.

"_Father!"_

Why had Marth called Chrom '_father'? _Why had she disappeared for two years?

With another headache in full swing, Robin set the questions aside for later.

Frederick and Robin had been sent to fetch Olivia, and the knight had opted to stay at camp to direct the rest of the Shepherds. His attitude towards Robin had been distinctly cold – although not rude – and the tactician had been feeling rather hurt because of it.

The dancer gave Robin a wary look, noting how tired he appeared to be. In truth, she wasn't feeling great, either. Only a few hours of precious sleep had been gained before the Risen had attacked, and her tent had been entirely torn apart in the siege.

"Chrom needs to see you," Robin repeated.

The alarm that suddenly crossed her face disconcerted Robin. "Now?"

It was difficult coming face to face with Olivia. "Yes. Now."

A strike of petty jealousy hit the tactician, as he contemplated Olivia's stance in Chrom's life. She was his wife, mother of his child, beautiful and feminine. Soft and gentle. Easy to order around, too shy to speak her mind or to criticize.

'Man and wife' - there was no problem with Olivia and Chrom having a romantic relationship. They could kiss openly, hug, and be affectionate. Sleep in the same bed every night, have sex, get married.

'Man and man'…a same-gender relationship didn't seem to have the same principles. Forced to keep his feelings a secret, not just because the man he was attracted to was the married king of Ylisse, but because he was sexually attracted to another man.

Not just a tactician; he was also a sodomiser. And for some reason, that made Robin inexplicably angry.

He loved Chrom.

Olivia didn't know how lucky she was to have him.

...

* * *

Terrified at what might be waiting for her at the end of the long walk, Olivia kept her mouth firmly shut as she and Robin moved onwards. They didn't exchange words, make small talk or even look at each other. A soundless hostility seemed to radiate from him. She saw gloved fists bunch by his sides, and the usually approachable and friendly tactician was acting very distantly.

Maybe he knew about her and Lon'qu. This man, who was closer to her own husband than she was, would understandably be furious if Chrom was ever harmed – physically _or _emotionally.

Wondering if her days as the king's wife were numbered, her complexion paled as two blue-haired figures gradually enlarged in the distance. She automatically raised her hands to her hair, fiddling with the long roseate strands in an effort to make herself look presentable.

The sorry-looking pair finally reached with Chrom and Marth. Upon closer inspection, Marth barely seemed to be more than a girl, let alone a woman. Her expression was grim, cheeks tear-stained, and her royal blue hair was exactly the same hue as Chrom's.

Ylisse's king was stood close, protectively standing slightly in front of the girl.

Olivia felt her face heat up. Surely…surely…Chrom wasn't..?

"Hello, Olivia." The lord's tone of voice was gentle, low. "There's someone I need to you to meet."

Olivia's mind immediately jumped to shameful conclusions. Was Chrom having an _affair_ with this woman? Was she pregnant?

"Who is she?" Olivia asked, her hands beginning to shake.

She didn't know how to react. They were cheating on _each other_?

"Consoling a crying woman in the woods," Robin's voice sounded strangled, and Olivia was relieved that she wasn't the only one feeling unbearably uncomfortable. Apparently, he didn't understand the link between Chrom and this 'Marth', either, "this is how ill rumours are born."

Reacting badly would be exorbitantly hypocritical, and Olivia knew it. Perhaps…perhaps it was better if she confessed, too. A clean slate. Their marriage had finally crashed and burned in front of their eyes, and it was hard to watch.

She thought of her daughter; little Lucina, oblivious to the hardships of the world, with a wet nurse as a replacement mother.

Above all, above everything else, Lucina came first.

Olivia made her decision.

"If…if you're being noble enough to a-admit to be that you're being…being unfaithful, then…" Her mouth dried as curiosity crossed Chrom's face. Swallowing hard, the dancer continued with a shaking voice, "…I…have to tell you something, too."

"Unfaithful?" Chrom shook his head, as Marth looked up and wiped away her tears with the back of her hand. "No, no, you have the wrong idea. This is Lucina. This is our daughter."

That was an even bigger revelation.

Olivia froze. She'd almost given it all away; the relationship she and Lon'qu had worked so hard to keep secret over the years. All of it, almost destroyed, because of a momentary exposure of her own _blatant stupidity._

"…Oh." Was all the dancer could come up with. Relief crashed down on her, and she barely comprehended the fact that Lucina was standing right in front of her. "That's…that's impossible…"

The tactician himself was looking rather sceptical. "She's right. It _is _impossible."

Lessening his hold on his 'daughter', Chrom looked down at Lucina. It seemed like he'd already accepted her.

"Show her," he said, speaking to Lucina and signalling towards his wife.

The dancer took a hesitant step back, unnerved by her husband's seemingly calm state.

As this supposed Lucina drew closer, it didn't take long for Olivia to notice. "The brand…?"

The Brand of the Exalt glowed in Lucina's left eye – identical to the one that Olivia's baby back in Ylisstol had.

"My…my d-daughter?"

That confirmed it for her. Lucina had the blue hair of her father, the same legendary sword, a brand confirming her noble lineage. She seemed to be too real to be a form of magic or sorcery.

Olivia could also feel a bond between them. It was faint, but it was definitely there.

"Yes," Lucina confirmed, "I'm your daughter."

Olivia shook her head in disbelief. "You've grown so much. You're…beautiful, Lucina."

Embarrassed, Lucina dipped her head and gave a brief smile that Olivia found completely heart-warming. "Thank you, milady."

Surprised by the use of such a formal title, Olivia cocked her head to the side, a smile covering her initial uneasiness. Her affair had almost been exposed. Almost_._ "Won't you call me mother?"

They were almost exactly the same height. Several feet shorter than Chrom, Lucina certainly took after her mother in that sense. Her mother gazed at the brand, enraptured by the unusual marking in a place as obvious as her eye.

"I thought that you might mind…"

As the mother and daughter continued to converse, Robin watched on, feeling oddly out of place. Here was Chrom's family in its entirety; a father, a mother, and a beautiful child that had blossomed into a strong young woman.

What family did _he _have? An assassin for a father? A mysterious doppelgänger for a brother?

He was lucky that Chrom was so lenient, so accepting.

Robin was also intrigued by what Olivia had muttered earlier: '_I have something to tell you, too."_

Perceptivity was a particular strength of the tactician's. Perhaps the arrival of Lucina would rebuild Chrom and Olivia's marriage to the point where they would fall in love again.

He didn't want that. He didn't want that at all.

If not surrendering Chrom to Olivia meant that Robin had to take on an antagonistic role, then so be it.

So be it.

* * *

**...**

**Well, it's been almost a month. I apologise for the delay, and hope that this chapter was good enough to satisfy any literary needs that you may possess.**

**I actually uploaded a new fic yesterday. I'm hoping that it will be different from this one - it doesn't have any romantic/sexual themes, and won't be as long, either. It details Lon'qu's life in the slums as a child, and the cause of his gynophobia. It's called 'A Little Virtue'. Please go check it out if you would like! [/blatantadvertising]**

**Thank you for reading. I'll try and update sooner next time. :)**


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